Two Survivors
by Danzinora Switch
Summary: A war, an accident, and survival of the elements as they journey towards safety form the strong bond between Kirk and McCoy. 11 years before the 5-year mission, these two young men were thrown together by fate, and must survive a long trek without phasers, communicators, or other technological means. COMPLETE
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Okay, I know that there are a lot of fics out there on how Jim and Bones met, but I've decided to take a shot at it. This Prologue was originally just going to be an author's note; however it got very, _very_ long. So I've decided to just make a chapter on background information and what my plans are for this.

First off, this is my "big project" of fan fiction (for now). As such, I am breaking my one-story-at-a-time rule. This means that while I'm writing this, I will occasionally post other stories as it suits me. Do not panic though; I have every intention to complete this and have an entire outline planned out.

Now, on to the story. I figure that if something made Jim and Bones into the best friends they are now; it must have been more than an accidental happenstance. Something fairly big/important must have happened for them to bond so closely, and I am _not_ taking the path of the reboot and simply saying that they went to the Academy together. Far from it.

I hope y'all are prepared for some math. I'm trying to ground this into the original canon timeline as much as I can. This takes place over ten years before the five year mission. Yes, Jim and Bones have known each other that long. In The Corbomite Maneuver, McCoy tells Jim that Lt. Bailey reminds him of himself (Jim, that is) "about, oh, eleven years ago." This being in the beginning of the mission, one can conclude that they have known each other for _at least_ that long. Now, in the episode The Deadly Years, Kirk states that he is thirty-four. This is in the second year of the mission, and so in the first year, when McCoy made that comment, he would have been thirty-three. 33-11= 22. At the very least when they met, Kirk would have been twenty-two years old.

I'm pushing it a little further back and saying he's twenty-one (but it could be close to his birthday). My reasoning is that the events on the planet Diodorus occur when Kirk is fairly fresh out of the Academy. We all know that he graduated the Academy in only three years. Assuming one entered Starfleet Academy at eighteen (right after high school) he would be twenty-one when he graduated, whereas most people who graduate would be twenty-two (this reasoning is supported with Chekov, who joined the Enterprise in its second year. He was twenty-two in Who Mourns for Adonais, which would suggest that he graduated and the _Enterprise_ was his first assignment; which is why he joined "late"). In this story, Kirk is twenty-one years old, going on twenty-two when he meets McCoy. I heard somewhere that he was on the _Republic_ for a short time, but mainly on the _Farragut_ before the _Enterprise_. Thus, this involves some of that 'short time' he is on the _Republic_. Ben Finney was also on that ship; this takes place after the incident with him that led to Court Martial, and I'm saying that Kirk got promoted as a result from it.

McCoy is tougher. I could get down and dirty and trace back the years from Encounter at Farpoint when he's 137, put I'm already doing enough math as it is. I've seen some sources which say that he was born in 2227 and that the mission occurs in 2267, however these vary. Suffice it to say that, because McCoy is in his early forties during the original five-year mission, he will be in his early thirties during this story (which is a little over eleven years before the mission).

Similar to the Academy, I'm saying that McCoy's time in medical school at Ole Miss lasted four years (some sites back this up saying he was there from 2245-2249) Let's still say that he was twenty-two when _he_ graduated. Somewhere in his early twenties he has the whole Jocelyn/Joanna/divorce thing, and _then_ joins Starfleet (let's say he's in his mid to late twenties when he signs up; like 25. Some books say that he met Jocelyn in college, so they could have married young and had Joanna right after he graduated; give them a few years). Once the Academy's over, he starts star-hopping with the medical teams, as some canon suggests (joining outposts and landing parties like on Capella IV). In this story, he is already part of the medical/science outpost on Diodorus when Kirk arrives. He's been in Starfleet a little longer than Kirk.

I'm going to try really hard to not have McCoy call Kirk 'kid' or 'son'. He never did that in The Original Series, although he did once call him Jim-boy (This Side of Paradise). I've always felt that Kirk and McCoy are equals, and that you often forget that they're different ages (McCoy often seems younger and Kirk often seems older). Saying 'kid' to me seems to suggest an older, wiser man explaining something to a younger, more foolish man (which, I know, is a bit extreme, but that's the idea). They are equals. Besides, the one saying 'kid' often turns out to be the leader, and I want to show some of Kirk's leadership qualities in here. So he can't be 'kid'.

In the end, this story takes place a little over eleven years before the five-year mission. Kirk is twenty-one, McCoy is in his early thirties, and they will meet and grow very close to each other based off of the events of the planet. This is most definitely adventure. More canon details may come out as the story progresses. Lights, camera, action.


	2. One

**Chapter 1**

Lt. James T. Kirk of the USS _Republic_ filed in with the other officers and ensigns to the briefing room. A nervous energy permeated the air. Later that day they were due to arrive on Diodorus and assist with the escalating situation there. They'd heard the details over and over throughout the past few days; however this was the official pre-mission briefing.

Somebody elbowed him. "Ready to listen to the Iron Interrogator?" Horton whispered.

Kirk shushed him and glanced to where Captain Rodenberg stood speaking with his senior officers. He suppressed a shudder. The man was strict and by-the-book. Insubordination was absolutely not tolerated. Punishments were often severe, even if it was a simple mistake. He had a way of talking to you as if you were under intense examination. You didn't reply to his questions… you gave up information.

He was fair, however. If someone performed admirably he didn't ignore it. Kirk cast a quick glance across the room to where Ben Finney stood. Thankfully, he didn't catch his gaze. The man had hated Kirk ever since he had reported Finney's mistake. Rodenberg didn't like mistakes. He dropped Finney back to Ensign and promised to keep him there as long as he was on his ship. And in a cruel twist to their friendship, he had promoted Kirk for 'doing the right thing'.

"If selling out your friend is the right thing," Finney had hissed once the captain was gone.

Kirk wrenched his mind away from the dark memories and sat down, focusing on the front of the room. It quieted into utter silence when Rodenberg stepped forward. His eagle-sharp gaze cut through each person, as if he was measuring up their souls.

"Siculus III," he began. "Is a class M planet orbiting a standard yellow dwarf star, Siculus. The natives of the planet call it Diodorus." He gestured, and someone brought up a picture of the solar system on the computer screen. It zeroed in on Diodorus. "It has no moons or any other satellites, either natural or artificial. It has abundant plant life, with promising scientific and medical properties. Probably its most notable aspect is that its axis is on its side. The sun rises in the north and sets in the south because the planet is leaning over." Rodenberg made another gesture, and glowing red dots popped up on the spinning planet. "There are six Federation outposts on Diodorus. While it is in Federation space and has several dealings with the Federation, it has never officially accepted membership. Ergo, they are not bound by Federation law. The Prime Directive is absolved, however, since there is already trade and scientific inquiries."

Kirk shifted in his seat. Mentally, he took notes. _Doesn't follow Federation law; Prime Directive does not apply._

"The natives, the Cananri," Rodenberg was saying. "Occasionally war with each other, but always refuse the Federation and Starfleet's help. Relations between the planet and the Federation have been peaceful… until now."

The picture on the screen zoomed in to a large area of plains with a jagged canyon sweeping through it. One glowing dot was highlighted; another continued to blink way off in the distance. Further to the north was a vast shaded section of land. Rodenberg pointed at it.

"This is an amassed area of Vertod forces. It is one of the largest countries on the planet. There is a slight difference between them and just any other Cananri. Think of it this way: humans are to Cananri as Americans are to Vertod. The newest outpost here," he indicated the highlighted dot. "Has fallen under attack and requested aid." His icy stare bored at the officers. "_You_ are that aid. This is war, men. You very well will have to fight against the Vertod forces to defend the outpost."

He made yet another gesture and this time the planet was replaced with a diagram of a few odd-looking contraptions. "Their primary weapon," Rodenberg informed. "Is the catapult." He silenced a few snickers by shooting daggers from his eyes at them. "Make no mistake," he said gravely. "They are extremely dangerous. Cananri have developed the catapult far beyond humans ever did. There are spring-shock launchers, and digital targeting. Some of the best ones can launch an object over a mile in distance. The ammunition is also deadly. Projectiles are usually round, but instead of looking at a large rock coming towards you think of a grenade. Better yet a bomb. Several explode on impact. Others release noxious gas. Some split apart in the air on the way down and rain metal spikes. And three days ago it was confirmed that some of the projectiles are heat-seeking." He paused and let it sink in. Kirk shifted.

"They are very accurate," he said. "And allow the Vertod to fight from a safe distance." He placed his hands on the table. "Your mission is to secure the base. Try to save it, but if it becomes necessary evacuate the personnel."

Kirk bravely raised his hand. "Lieutenant!" Rodenberg snapped. _What is your question?_

"Have we tried negotiating with the Vertod?" Kirk asked tentatively. "Talking with them?"

The room held still, and several worried glances were tossed his way. Finney smirked, no doubt thinking _now he'll get it._

"Lt. Kirk," Rodenberg said calmly, his voice steely. "No one has been able to contact them, either through electronic communication or face-to-face contact. They refuse to answer our hails, and anyone who tries to get close enough to speak with one ends up killed." He gave a slight smirk. "Why, do you want to get cut down by a catapult in an attempt to chat?"

"No sir," Kirk answered, looking him back in the eye. Rodenberg held his gaze before releasing him. "Good. Fall out!" Everyone jumped and scrambled out the door.

The armory was wide open and they filed through to receive a phaser rifle and an assortment of other weapons. "Ooh, they're bringing out the bad boys," Lt. Braxton commented. Kirk turned to her as she hefted the rifle. "We mean business."

Kirk sighed and looked at his phaser rifle. "Not that this will help us against a catapult. What's the maximum range on these? A couple hundred yards?"

Braxton hummed and looked over to where four other redshirts were toting out a grenade launcher. "Oh, I don't know," she said lightly. "But I like our chances."

He chuckled as they walked with the crowd. "Well, don't get too cocky, Brax. We don't know what we'll find."

She turned a mock-offended face to him. "Cocky? Me? I believe you've switched our personalities, Kirk. _You're_ the cocky one; _I'm _simply confident."

Kirk grinned. "Is that what that's called?"

"You bet," she maintained as they entered the transporter room. She lifted the rifle again. "I'm a crack shot with this."

"Just make sure you keep it pointed in the right direction," he said. She turned to send a playful retort, but they were on the transporter and the beam prevented her from saying anything.

The first thing Kirk noticed was the heat.

It slammed into him like a physical force and he grunted. He tried to look around, but there was dust floating everywhere. Something whistled overhead and he turned to see an oblong object crash into a scarred hill. Smoke boiled up from some kind of black liquid that drenched the ground. Grass started charring the moment the ooze touched it.

"Fall in!" Braxton shouted. She was troop leader of the six of them, and already had her phaser rifle set on kill. There was an explosion somewhere and Kirk instantly jogged with the others to catch up with Braxton, who was disappearing into the haze.

The dust was everywhere. Kirk coughed into his elbow and squinted. He nearly ran into Braxton, who had stopped suddenly in front of a man. He was filthy and his glasses were askew. Kirk could barely hear them over the roar of the barrage. He strained his ears.

"… from the northwest. Haven't seen them, but, well-"

There was a burst of wind, and then a tremendous explosion. Instantly, everyone crouched as the land rocked beneath them and little rocks pelted overhead. Braxton exchanged some more words with the man and nodded. He took off away from where the main battle was. Kirk could make out the shadowy outlines of the outpost in the distance. The man vanished running towards it.

Braxton beckoned them all closer and they huddled near a ridge. "He says a bunch of ours are thataway!" she shouted over the noise. She pointed towards the battle. "Our troops and Security from other ships! There's also a bunch of outpost personnel out there, trying to help near the cliffs!"

"Any civilians?" Kirk shouted back.

"It's a Starfleet outpost!" she yelled. There was a boom and they ducked lower. "But that doesn't exactly mean they're soldiers!"

"What's our objective?" another man, Beckett, called.

"Right now, it's to get those personnel off the field and into the outpost!" Braxton stated. "Then that will give us more room to do our job!"

"I thought we were supposed to secure the base!" someone challenged.

Another explosion. It threw them onto the ground. Dirt poured like rain.

"What's the good of securing the base if there's no one left to inhabit it?!" she screamed at him. "With me!"

Braxton charged over the ridge and they hurried in formation after her.

It wasn't the flat plains as seen from the digital image in the briefing room. Grass could barely be seen throughout all the dirt and huge mounds from explosions loomed high. They avoided several suspicious-looking substances (one actually glowed) and penetrated deeper into the noise.

There were more people. If they were close enough they could make out staggering scientists, limping men, and Starfleet's troops. Everything was colored a brownish-orange from the excessive dust. Starfleet's normally bright colors were muted by the grit. Kirk's eyes stung and he wiped it away, coughing. Looking down, he realized that he was already coated with a thick layer of grime.

"Watch out!"

Kirk glanced up and saw what looked like a large boulder flying towards them. Without thinking he aimed his phaser rifle at it. Someone else's beam joined his and the projectile vaporized. He kept running with his troop.

"Hey!" someone shouted. "We need assistance over here!"

Kirk turned and saw a small team gathered around one person. It all looked brown, but he could guess they were a medical team. "Braxton!" he shouted. "Over there!"

"What?!"

Another explosion made the ground quake and added dust to the atmosphere. He took off for the group, breaking away from the troop. "What do you need?" he shouted, running up.

The first man snatched his rifle away and grabbed his hands. "Hold pressure here!" he instructed. Kirk leaned over, putting his weight onto the wound. He didn't recognize the man with the abdominal bleed, but he was so coated in dirt it could've been his brother and he wouldn't know.

"Please tell me you have a communicator," someone begged.

Kirk unclipped his and passed it to her. "Thank you!" she cried. She flipped it open and started speaking rapidly into the piece. "Station 6, we need an emergency medical beam out, we have a patient with a deep, open stomach wound and dust is getting in, our coordinates are-"

"SCATTER!"

Kirk looked up in time to see another projectile barreling straight for them. It was impossibly fast. He launched himself over the wounded man and down the side of small crater. Not a second later there was a massive explosion. Intense heat washed over him and he curled, trying to protect his face and torso. An instant later and it was gone.

The misplaced soil started raining down. Kirk choked on it and noticed it looked wrong. His hearing was gone and he sat uncomprehending. Finally his brain kicked in and he realized. Oh God, it was what was left of the man with the wound.

Kirk lurched and threw up. No more hope for the poor fellow. He was raining down from the blast. Shakily, he got to his feet. He couldn't see clearly more than a yard in any direction, and beyond that only orangey figures moved in the brown. _That was all,_ a giddy part of his mind said. _Orange and brown, fire and ground._ His hearing returned and the sounds of the battle joined the insane cacophony of a tune in his mind. _Orange and brown, fire and ground…_

He couldn't process the shapes. He was still dazed from the blast. The haze swirled and there was a large shape coming towards him. He watched it, watched it cut a lazy path through the smog, getting closer and closer…

"Shit, man!"

He was violently yanked back by his collar. He started to turn, and was bowled over by the blast. He and the man crashed to the ground and started rolling and rolling and _rolling_… why was the slope so steep? A mocking image flashed through his mind of a wicked canyon stretching through the plains.

He was barely aware of the rolling. He was so disoriented he couldn't think, just _orange and brown, fire and ground_.

Though it was a different color that zipped through his mind. He saw it for only a fraction of a second as they tumbled, but it was burned into his memory because it was so starkly different from the murky orange and brown.

The man's eyes were blue.

_Huh,_ his mind thought. _That's new_.

And then the ground dropped out beneath them.

* * *

**Diodorus Siculus was a Greek historian who was one of the first to record an account of a catapult. We don't know exactly who invented the catapult, so I am using his name for the planet and star. Reviews are appreciated!**


	3. Two

**Chapter 2**

It was cold.

That was the first thing he was aware of.

How strange.

It didn't fit with his last memories of searing heat and dust.

But it was almost chilly.

Curious and confused, Kirk blinked open his eyes. It was dark, but, wait; it wasn't night. A moment later and he processed that he was staring at a ceiling of some sort. He squinted at it. It was rock.

As consciousness returned he became aware that he ached all over and he had an outrageous headache pounding in the back of his head. He grunted and shifted, stiff muscles wincing against the movement.

"If you hold still it wouldn't hurt as much."

His eyes flicked over to where a man was sitting on his knees beside him. He didn't look familiar, except Kirk glimpsed those stark blue eyes in the dim light of the cave. His mouth started working. "What happened?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "What happened is that you wouldn't get out of the way of a catapult missile, so I pulled you. _Then_ you started moving, the blast unbalanced us, and we fell into the canyon."

Kirk winced and tried to sit up. The man reached over and gently pushed him back down. "I wouldn't do that just yet. You banged your head and gave your skull a hairline fracture. Lucky for you I'm a doctor who knows how to reprogram a dermal regenerator or you'd be feeling a lot worse."

Kirk settled back down on the rock. "A doctor?" he repeated.

"Yes." He took out a medical scanner and ran it over his head. "It's healing alright… just not instantaneously as it would with a bone knitter." He shrugged. "But, all things considered, it's coming along nicely. I just wouldn't move around a lot for the rest of the day; don't want that bone shifting out of place."

Kirk ran his hand through his hair. "I didn't know you could heal bone without a knitter," he murmured.

The doctor snorted. "You can. How do you think people healed up before it was invented? It just can't heal _quickly_ without a knitter."

"But it's still faster than if we had nothing?"

The man nodded. Then he reached back and picked up an odd-looking device. Its wires were showing and tangled, open metal stuck out, and overall it didn't look very safe to hold. "Amped up the dermal regenerator. The only problem is, I had to take apart your phaser to use its power source to give it enough juice."

Kirk's hand flew to his side where his handheld should be. It wasn't there. He looked back at the man with the question in his eyes.

The doctor sighed. "Sorry. But it's not that the phaser would do us any good now. The power source completely drained when I was fixing that fracture."

"Oh." Kirk stared at the ceiling some, trying to process it all. Then he remembered the battle. "When can I move again Doctor…?"

"McCoy," he said. "Leonard McCoy. And I told you, I want you staying still for at least the rest of the day."

"But I have to get back to my troop…" he trailed off when he noticed McCoy shift. "What?"

"Our tumble down the canyon?" McCoy said. "Happened yesterday."

Kirk's eyes bugged. "How…?"

"As I said, you hit your head. We bounced down the side and when we finally stopped you were unconscious. The gash didn't look pretty, either. There was absolutely no way I could pull you back _up_ the cliff- don't ask me how we're both alive- but I spotted this cave and dragged you inside." He frowned, and then his face lit up as he remembered something. Digging somewhere, he pulled out a vial with a clear liquid. "There's a tiny stream nearby. Barely more than a trickle of water. But you must be thirsty."

Kirk took the vial and drank. There wasn't a lot, but it was bliss. He leaned back into the rock when he was done. "Where'd you get the container?"

McCoy grunted. "My medkit got squashed. Our fall busted most of my hypos. When I opened it up it looked like a rainbow had thrown up inside. Some of that stuff shouldn't mix- I had to wash everything out before I could treat you."

"And you've been here the whole time?" Kirk asked. "Since yesterday?"

McCoy raised that eyebrow again. "You're my patient. Of course." He leaned back on his heels. "Though I have investigated outside the cave a little bit. Not much other than white rocks." He looked at Kirk. "I don't suppose you have a magical food can or something?"

Kirk shook his head, but was mildly pleased that McCoy hadn't searched him while he was unconscious- except to use his phaser. "No, they didn't supply us with that. We were informed that the outpost was well-stocked."

McCoy grunted. "A bit hard to reach now." He shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged and no longer on his knees. "Where you from?"

Kirk's training kicked in. "Lt. James T. Kirk of the USS _Republic_," he said.

McCoy just looked at him. "O-kay," he said slowly. "Useful, but I meant 'where are you from' as in 'how ya' doin'?' 'What's up?' 'Got any interests?'"

Kirk stared at him.

"Don't they teach the art of conversation anymore?" McCoy muttered to himself. "We're going to be here for the rest of the day; might as well make it interesting."

"Oh," Kirk registered. "Iowa."

"Country boy, then?"

Kirk shook his head. "Not quite. More of the industrialized region." He squinted at McCoy. "Though you've got a bit of an accent. Where are you from?"

"Georgia," he said, and not a little proudly. "A little ways outside Atlanta. Not a city, but not quite the country. Still, there were just enough rural areas to make one feel like a redneck."

"Were you a redneck?" Kirk asked.

McCoy tilted his head. "Not in the usual sense. But there is a lot of country in my blood." He frowned and pulled out the scanner again. "Speaking of blood, let me see that gash again."

Kirk sat up some and McCoy inspected the back of his head. "How's it look?" he asked.

"Some of your hairs are singed from the super-powerful regenerator, but everything's still in place. _Delicately_," he added when Kirk tried to move. "What did I say about staying still?"

"Right," Kirk apologized, lying back down.

"What kind of things did you do in Iowa?" McCoy asked.

Kirk chuckled. "Well, I wasn't exactly your average teenager," he said. "I would go out and hang with friends, but when I was by myself I would read history books."

McCoy laughed, and then quieted when he saw Kirk's face. "Wait. You're serious?"

"Oh yes," he said. "Mainly from the 19th and 20th centuries. Not exactly textbooks, but old classics, you know? Charles Dickens, Robert Frost, the like."

McCoy shook his head. "And I thought I was old-fashioned."

"Well, history interests me. If we can't learn from the past then we're doomed to repeat our mistakes." He shifted and winced. "I traced my family history… we helped settle the west. I leafed around through the 1800s; found some of my ancestors who fought in the Civil War."

"Really?" McCoy said.

Kirk nodded enthusiastically, even though it made his head hurt more. "Oh, yes. We fought for the north. I found a Samuel Kirk, a William Kirk, they were brothers," he winced again. "And there was an Eliza Kirk who married into the family, and…" he broke off. "Doc, do you have anything for a headache? This is just killing me."

McCoy shook his head mournfully. "Sorry, Kirk. All my hypos shattered." He furrowed his brow. "There is a method you could use to help," he said. He picked up one of Kirk's hands and tapped the fleshy part of muscle between the thumb and forefinger. "Squeeze this, and as long as you're squeezing the headache is gone."

Kirk gripped the point on his left hand. His eyes widened. "That actually works!" he exclaimed.

"Of course it does," McCoy grunted. "I'm not a doctor for nothing."

"It's not gone, but it's _waaaay_ down," Kirk continued. "Though my hand is starting to hurt."

McCoy held up his hands. "Well, unless you want me to go out and mash together some herbs my hands are tied. It's the best I can do."

"Sawbones."

"What?" McCoy asked.

"That's what they called doctors back then, such as during the Civil War. They didn't have perfect medical practices and there were a lot of amputations. That's why they were called sawbones; they sawed a lot of bones. Among other primitive medical practices." He looked at his hands. "You're a sawbones, now."

"Heaven forbid," McCoy said dryly. "That makes me sound like a witch doctor."

"No, there's a difference," Kirk looked at him, a smile creeping onto his face. "Sawbones aren't so cruel."

"Still crude," McCoy said. "I don't like that label. 'Sawbones' sounds like a name for a dinosaur fossil."

"So you're just a 'bones, then?" Kirk asked, enjoying this too much. His eyes widened with glee. He tapped his skull. "You fixed my bones, Sawbones!"

"What did I tell you about that name?" McCoy groused. "I'm not an old fossil."

"Nope," Kirk asserted. He poked McCoy's elbow. "Nope, you're still alive."

McCoy grumbled and waved the scanner over Kirk again. He examined the readings.

"Watcha doing?" Kirk asked, craning his neck to see.

"Aha," McCoy said triumphantly. "That's it."

"What?" Kirk asked.

"Dehydration," McCoy declared. "I knew there had to be a reason for all this crazy talk." He gathered his broken hypos. "I'll be back with some water for you," he announced as he exited the cave.

"Be back soon, Bones!" Kirk called after him.

* * *

The night deepened. McCoy had gathered just enough stray brush to start a fire, and it crackled at the cave entrance. They sat in silence.

"So we're trying the cliffs tomorrow?" Kirk affirmed.

McCoy nodded slowly. "I guess so. We can't hold out for long without food and only minimal water." He traced a stick through the gritty cave floor.

Kirk nodded. He was feeling better, and his headache had gone down as the day progressed. He stretched back out on the rock. "Might as well get some sleep, then," he yawned. "We've got a long climb ahead of us."

McCoy put down his stick and lay down on the other side of the fire. "Try not to roll around too much in your sleep," he told Kirk. "Rock is unforgiving, and I don't want you busting your head open again."

"Sure thing, Bones," Kirk mumbled. He heard McCoy sigh. Kirk started thinking of the _Republic_ and the battle. McCoy had told him that the battlefield had been quiet since several hours before he woke. He was concerned. Did this mean they had won? Or was it the Vertod?

He shifted. Either way, they would find out tomorrow. He closed his eyes to drift off to sleep.

Between them, the small fire slowly sputtered and died.

* * *

**Thanks, mtcbones, for reviewing! I feel this chapter is a little bit slow, but normally my chapter two's are slower than the rest of the story. More, much more, adventure is coming up. Also, the pressure-point on the hand thing to stop headaches? That actually works; I've done it myself dozens of times. I hope I'm doing the characters justice. Please review, everyone! I want to make sure I'm going about this right. Lemme know what you think of it!**

**Kirk's interests come from throughout the series. In "The Wrath of Khan', Spock got him 'A Tale of Two Cities' by Charles Dickens, and mentions that Kirk has a love for antiques. In 'Spectre of the Gun' Kirk says that his ancestors pioneered the west. Throughout the show he was constantly referencing old literature, most often the poem 'All I ask is a tall ship..." I conclude that he was a bit of a history buff. Thanks for reading! And do please review!**


	4. Three

**Chapter 3**

The north sun rose the next day. McCoy jolted awake. He stared in confusion at the rock cave for a moment before remembering the circumstances. Rolling over (his muscles groaned in protest; rock wasn't exactly comfy) he saw the pile of ashes that left of their fire and Kirk still asleep on the other side.

Careful not to wake the man, he reached for his broken vials. A trip down to the stream to get some water and then they would scale the cliffs back to the top. His stomach rumbled and he ignored it. He hadn't eaten since breakfast the morning before yesterday.

The stream still trickled and he drank his fill before filling up the hypos and putting the caps on the ones that would still fit. When he returned to the cave Kirk was sitting up and looking around.

"There you are," he said when he approached. "I was worried you left to go on and try the cliffs."

McCoy stopped. "Of course not. Just thought you could use some water."

Kirk's stomach rumbled, signaling that it wasn't water he needed. "Thanks," he said, taking only one vial. At McCoy's raised eyebrow he explained. "We're going to need to save the rest of those vials for the trip." The doctor shrugged and placed them in his medkit.

"How are you feeling?"

Kirk swallowed the rest of the water. "A lot better. The headache's a distant memory." McCoy still checked the gash, but grudgingly agreed with him. Kirk stood up and looked at him.

"Ready to go rock-climbing?"

"No," McCoy answered. "But I'll do it."

They exited the cave. Kirk followed McCoy to where they had landed. The terrain didn't look familiar. He craned his neck up, squinting at the sun peaking over the edge. "That's pretty steep." _How did we survive?_

McCoy seemed to know his question. "We had each other to soften the fall," he grunted. He stretched, still trying to work out the kinks in his back.

Kirk walked along the edge of the canyon wall. He stopped before a boulder. Drifting his eyes up the cliff, he saw numerous other boulders jutting out from the side, as if there had been a rock slide years ago. It was messy and jumbled, but that meant an important thing: handholds.

"Bones," Kirk called. "Over here." McCoy joined him and looked up the slope. "What do you think?"

"Well, it looks like our best shot," he agreed. His stomach growled.

Kirk hoisted himself onto the first boulder. He wriggled on his stomach before he got his knees under him. McCoy clambered up behind him.

For the next hour all that consumed Kirk's mind was finding the next handhold and hauling himself over the next ledge. Repeat process. His hands were white with grit from the pale rocks and sweat poured down the sides of his face. It just got hotter as the sun rose higher. Digging in with his elbows, he pulled himself on top of the umpteenth rock. He looked up. There was still such a long ways to go. He looked down. It didn't look like they had come very far.

McCoy staggered next to him and flopped on his back. Kirk could practically hear his hammering heart- or was that his own?

"Wanna take a break?" he asked, surprised at how breathy his voice was. He hadn't realized he was breathing so hard.

"Sure," McCoy panted. After he caught his breath he opened his medkit and passed Kirk a vial. They sat on the rock overlooking the canyon and sipped the precious water.

Kirk found that, tired as he was, he enjoyed the view. It was gorgeous. The white rock revealed different bands where layers of sediment and other substances had accumulated over time. In a different situation, one where his survival didn't depend on it, he could see himself rock-climbing for fun. The view was totally worth the exertion.

He heard McCoy shift beside him. "Ready?" he asked. McCoy nodded and got up. "Boy, am I lookin' forward to some scrambled eggs."

Kirk had a little difficulty understanding the tired drawl. "Did you say scrambled eggs?"

McCoy nodded. "With cheese. Tossed an' fluffy, but not too runny. Elaine White makes the best breakfast in the galaxy, an' I want some of 'er scrambled eggs."

"I'll have to try them," Kirk chuckled.

McCoy squinted, shielding a hand from the sun. " 'course, the longer we stay out here, the more _we're_ gonna look like scrambled eggs."

Kirk agreed. He was reminded of the heat of the planet now that they were out of the cave. With a sigh he rolled over and trudged to the next ledge. Grip, haul, repeat. His hands hurt. Grip, haul, repeat. And his knees. Grip, haul, repeat. His throat was parched and dry. Grip, haul, repeat. Turn, make sure McCoy was still with him. Grip, haul repeat. It was hot. Grip, haul, repeat. He was tired. Grip, haul, repeat. He was dizzy. Grip, haul, repeat. There was a hand on his shoulder and water at his lips. It was bliss. Grip, haul repeat.

Grip, haul, repeat.

Grip… haul…

Kirk collapsed. He looked confused at the land in front of him. He could see so far. There wasn't a cliff face in front of him. Limbs shaking, he sat up.

It was a plain.

They were out of the canyon.

Next to him, McCoy fell onto a pile of grass. "Never again," he heard the man gasp.

They took several moments to catch their breaths. Kirk's heart was hammering in his ears. He shifted, noticing that his uniform was sticking to him uncomfortably. With effort, he dragged himself up on his knees and viewed the battlefield.

Former battlefield.

Beside him, McCoy whistled.

The ground was scarred. Pits and mounds created through multiple bombardments and explosions littered the plain. Several still smoked. Dazed at the destruction, they wandered through the rubble. Pieces of equipment were scattered everywhere, and occasionally they would glimpse part of a Starfleet uniform. They didn't see any bodies, however. At least, anyone intact. Kirk figured if he returned to a particular crater he might find pieces of the man with the stomach bleed.

They trudged through the field. The smell of burnt everything was overpowering. Some substances still sizzled or glowed. They passed by several small fires, and avoided a half-melted phaser whose core was leaking all over the place.

"Welcome to the Federation," McCoy muttered darkly.

The perpetual haze seemed to have cleared, Kirk noticed with relief. Though some areas off in the distance still looked smoky. Kirk eyed a stiff piece of metal impaled into the ground. "Do you suppose we'll find anything useful here?"

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Unless it's water or food, probably not."

Kirk clambered on top of a mound. "I see a ridge in the distance," he reported. "Is the outpost beyond that?"

McCoy nodded. "Yeah. It's not too terrible of a walk. We can make it before nightfall."

Kirk glanced at the sun. It was directly overhead. He slid back down the mound and they kept walking. For now, at least, they were walking south and didn't have to worry about the sun in their eyes. But that would change as the day trolled on.

The ground looked baked and parched. McCoy passed Kirk another vial and drank one of his own. "That's the last two," he said. Kirk sipped half of it and saved the rest. It was very tepid. But with the sun pelting down mercilessly and heat radiating from the war-torn ground, he figured it could taste a lot worse.

They had to take a break and rest against a mound. Walking straight through the field, it wouldn't have taken very long to get to the ridge and the outpost beyond. However, they had to weave among too many hazards to be healthy. McCoy muttered something.

"What?"

"I said, Dante was wrong," McCoy told him.

Kirk searched his memory for that name. "What was he wrong about?" he inquired.

"Hell," McCoy said simply.

Kirk wiped more sweat from his brow and said "Is it the heat?"

McCoy shook his head. "No. He had Hell as suspended torment. People were constantly caught up in their sin, doomed to live it cruelly until the end of time." He leaned back against the dirt. "But that's not the worst part."

"I don't know," Kirk said. He'd read _Dante's Inferno_ years ago, and thought that people trapped in flaming tombs and bound by chains to their greed were pretty awful. "What's worse than living it?"

"The aftermath." McCoy gestured the landscape. "If everyone who fought here went to Hell, then according to Dante they would be stuck in a boiling river of fire and blood for their violence. It sounds like agony, but what's worse is seeing the leftovers of your handiwork." He sighed and turned his head to Kirk. "I saw this place before it was destroyed. Took my breath away every morning."

McCoy quieted and picked at his filthy uniform. Kirk stared at an oily substance that had twisted the grass and dyed the surrounding soil black. In the Academy they were taught of the political implications of every action taken, but never considered the paradises ruined in the process. He blinked, wondering why that was so.

McCoy was still muttering softly to himself. The man seemed distant, so Kirk tried not to pry, but it was quiet and the sound waves traveled. "…wonder how many died…"

Kirk frowned. It _was_ quiet. True, the battle had been over for more than a day now, but the victors hadn't come to inspect the spoils. He stood up and stretched, now anxious to get to the outpost.

"Ready?"

McCoy stood as well, and seemed to sense Kirk's slight agitation. As the sun started to slowly descend in front of them, they hurried to the ridge and started trekking up its gentle slope. When they reached the crest they stopped and looked over the rest of the land.

"Sweet Jesus…" McCoy whispered.

* * *

**Thank you EVERYONE for reviewing! Lillyindy, I shall try to update quickly so that it can soon be 'Completed', but am glad that you're following this! mtcbones, thank you for your concern, but (thankfully) I rarely get headaches, and if I do then it's because I've been slammed around one too many times on a roller coaster :) Also, thanks to literary1, kane41, and Kimberleah for reviewing! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as much as the last!**

**I tried to allude a bit to Kirk's inclination towards rock climbing. He does it in Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, so I figure he's got to start somehow. Also, the whole 'Dante's Inferno' thing came up unexpectedly, but it did allow me to peek at McCoy's constant battle against death as a doctor. I've never read the book, but I used Wikipedia for my information. Sorry to leave y'all on a mild cliff hanger, but I'm out of school now and should be updating a lot. Please review!**


	5. Four

**Chapter 4**

The outpost lay before them. Literally _lay_. Most of it was flattened and its interior was strewn all over the place. Wood and metal, twisted beams, smoke and broken glass were jumbled all around. Of the few parts still standing, only one didn't lean precariously in a haphazard direction. It looked like a careless chef had cut open the carcass of the station and spilled its guts.

Kirk found his voice. "Well, at least we know who won."

McCoy nodded mutely. "Do you suppose there's anyone still there?"

Kirk frowned. "Our orders were to evacuate the station if we couldn't secure it. Of course, there could be other survivors, like us, who had gotten separated. Doubtless, they would head here."

McCoy nodded again, then shrugged forward. "Well, let's see what's left."

They picked their way through the wreckage, aiming for the most-intact building. Debris crunched underneath their boots and small clouds of dust drifted up where they stepped. Kirk eased open a half-charred door and gingerly stepped inside.

It was dark, as the only light provided was from the sun peeking through several holes in the shelter. They slowly wandered in, wincing at every creak as if the shelter were about to collapse on them.

"Hello?" Kirk called out. "Anybody here?" At McCoy's questioning gaze he shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."

The two poked through the shambles. They didn't find anyone, dead or alive. "They might think that we were killed," McCoy muttered, voicing Kirk's thoughts.

They split off to cover more ground. Kirk squeezed through a jammed double-door and beheld a mess of equipment. Wires and conduits were everywhere, and though the electricity seemed to be cut off, Kirk was cautious in navigating around the loose components.

He spied a familiar-looking panel and picked his way towards it. Shoving off some fallen parts of the wall and other pieces, he cleared the grit away from the communication console's surface. Eagerly, he started pressing buttons to hail a ship.

Nothing happened.

Figuring it was due to the lack of power, but checking anyway, Kirk found a heavy metal bar and used it to pry inside. His heart sank. It was a mass of melted circuitry. Even if he and McCoy did restore power to the station the console would still be less than useless.

Backing out of the messy room, he heard McCoy cry out in triumph.

"Jackpot!"

Moving towards the sound of his voice, Kirk found him next to an opened, beat-up looking storage unit. "What is it?"

McCoy held up a bag. Kirk squinted at it in the gloom. "MRE's," the doctor explained. "This unit holds a lot of materials for all-day scientific expeditions. You can't exactly take a synthesizer with you, so we packed these."

Kirk peered into the cabinet. While beaten and damaged on the outside, at least most of its contents were still intact. He spotted dozens of more MRE's along with some tricorders and emergency medical kits. His stomach growled ferociously. "Excellent foresight," he complimented, snatching a bag. "Let's heat these up. Do you know where a generator might be?"

The doctor led him to an in-wall closet. Prying open the door, they surveyed the tangled mess of pipes and wires. "This one doesn't look as bad as the others," Kirk suggested. They hauled it out and set it on the floor. McCoy scratched his head.

"I'll admit, I'm not an electrician or anywhere close to a mechanic," he said. "I fix broken bones, not machines."

Kirk was examining it. "Well, it's not that broken," he relayed. He started groping around inside. "Just some wires got pulled out… and then you need to straighten the oscillator…" he banged around some more. "Aaaand, that should do it." He straightened and set the controls to generate heat. Glancing it over one last time, he turned it on.

Nothing happened.

He frowned and was about to say something when McCoy walked over and kicked it hard in the side. The generator coughed and spluttered, whirring to life.

Kirk looked at McCoy. "I hope you were gentler than that when you were treating me."

* * *

The sun was still setting, but it was already dark enough to be night as they ate their long-awaited meals. Kirk noticed, amused, that McCoy had found an MRE that contained scrambled eggs. They both wolfed down the food, even though it would have been wiser to pace themselves. They didn't care; they were starving.

The shelter protected them from the planet's heat, but as it darkened it grew cooler. "Are there any survival blankets?" Kirk asked, swallowing some rice.

"Probably, somewhere," McCoy acknowledged. "Haven't a clue where they're located, but if we get desperate we can track some blankets from whatever bedrooms are left."

Kirk nodded and scraped together more of his meal. "Communications are out," he informed. "I checked; we can't fix them."

McCoy grunted and took another bite of eggs. "Figures," he said after a moment. "Murphy's Law is having a field day with us."

"Do you know where we can find communicators?" Kirk asked. "I didn't see them in the cabinet."

"That's because they're all kept in the communications room," McCoy explained. "Damned inefficient, if you ask me."

Kirk thought back to the messy room with the console. He hadn't seen any communicators or any_thing_ that had looked useful. "There's got to be some way we can contact a ship."

McCoy swallowed. "There is. Station 5. It's several miles west of here." He leaned back, thinking. "As far as I know there hasn't been any quarrel with it."

Kirk leaned forward, latching onto the information. "How long would it take us to get there?" he asked.

"By skimmer? An hour or two, maybe ninety minutes. But they don't have to worry about terrain, and we've got a giant canyon we would need to cross."

"It's on the other side?" Kirk clarified, heart thudding.

McCoy nodded.

"And we don't have a skimmer?" he confirmed.

The doctor snorted. "Not unless they're invisible."

Kirk absently tapped his tray, thinking. He really didn't want to scale up and down anymore cliffs. "Could we go around it?"

McCoy stopped eating and looked at him. "We could. It'd take the high side of two weeks and we'll be exposed on the plains, but we could. Cutting through the canyon, however, is a journey of maybe three days. And that's from one side to the other."

Kirk weighed their options. On the one hand, while rock-climbing was more dangerous, it was an invaluable shortcut. On the other, they could ensure their safety by going around the canyon at its endpoint. But looking at the stack of MRE's, he didn't think their supplies would last that long.

He was brought back to the present when McCoy resumed talking. "We also didn't get to the bottom of the canyon when we fell. We were in a weird, slide zone. There's a big forest at the bottom because the river is so full of nutrients. So we'd have two things we'll need taken care of: shade and water."

Kirk smiled. "Eager to climb more cliffs, Bones?"

He shuddered. "Heaven forbid," the doctor replied. "But it's the fastest way to safety."

"I agree." Kirk set down his tray. "We'll head out tomorrow. Right now, all I can think about is how good this roof feels over my head."

"As long as it's not _on_ your head," McCoy said, also setting down his tray. "In the morning, when it's lighter, I want to get a proper look at that skull."

"Whatever you say, Bones."

"Good-night, Kirk."

* * *

**Thank you mtcbones, literary1, and Lancer30 for reviewing! literary1, I'm glad you think I'm pacing their relationship correctly; my goal is that by the end of this they will no longer be 'Kirk and McCoy' but instead 'Jim and Bones'. Again, epic adventure= friendship bonding!**

**I know this chapter is a little shorter than the others; I debated on lumping it with another chapter, or part of another chapter, but decided to just leave it. I did manage (unexpectedly) to work in a bit of McCoy's 'I'm a doctor not a _ in there. I hope you enjoyed it, and please review! The big quest starts tomorrow! (In the story, that is...)**


	6. Five

**Chapter 5**

McCoy snapped awake. He lay in the dark, wondering what had awakened him. There was a noise somewhere in the outpost. Slowly, he sat up. The noise came again, like a slight clattering of something.

In the darkness he could just barely make out Kirk's form next to him, still asleep. He listened further. When the sound came again he reached over and shook the lieutenant's shoulder.

"Kirk," he whispered. "Kirk, wake up!"

Kirk's eyes popped open and he started to say something, but McCoy's finger on his lips kept him silent. Slowly, the doctor rose. There was a shuffle elsewhere in the outpost, and Kirk reached for a rechargeable light.

Tiptoeing through the rubble, they neared the source of the sound. It appeared to be coming from one of the demolished rooms. They stopped before its entrance, waiting. Starlight shown through the jagged shelter, illuminating pockets of debris. Kirk motioned McCoy, and the doctor took the other side of the entrance. They waited some more. The sound came again, and followed by some thuds of equipment falling. Kirk met McCoy's eyes, he could see them in the starlight, and nodded.

They burst into the room and Kirk switched on the flashlight. There was a hiss and a creature that resembled a cat-like hyena bared its teeth at them. It stopped rummaging through the remains and bounded away through a hole in the wall.

"A dojor," McCoy said. "I forgot about them. They've never approached the outpost before and keep their distance way out on the plains as scavengers."

"All the destruction must have drawn their attention," Kirk surmised. "Good pickings."

McCoy frowned. "The thing is, they normally travel in packs. This one's either a rogue, Kirk, or his buddies are just outside."

The news was unsettling. "Are they carnivorous?" he asked.

The doctor was quiet, thinking. "They can be," he said. "They'll eat anything. While they prefer dead meat, they'll take out a weak creature if they think they can do it."

Kirk backed out into the corridor, sweeping the beam both ways. McCoy joined him. "Bones," he said. "It's about a day's journey to the canyon… will they be a problem?"

McCoy shook his head. "Shouldn't. They're nocturnal."

Kirk relaxed only marginally. They made their way back to the generator. "We should probably start keeping watch," he said as they sat down. "For any other dangers. It's ourselves against the planet; we don't want to survive so far only to get eaten by wild animals."

McCoy grunted humorlessly. "That would be a drawback."

"I'll go first," Kirk said. "We've got at most half the night left; you get some sleep."

McCoy seemed ready to argue, but conceded. "Alright," he said, lying down. "But I get first watch on the next night."

"Deal."

* * *

Kirk watched the first rays of light start drifting through the outpost. When Siculus itself peeked over the horizon he woke McCoy and they ate breakfast.

"We'll need to pack as many MRE's as we can," Kirk said, locating two travel packs. They weren't very big, but they were intact which was a blessing. "What about water?"

McCoy tossed him a canteen from back in the cabinet. "There's a river that runs through the canyon, which may branch off into other streams and tributaries. Until then, however, we'll have to make do with what the outpost gives us."

They tried to salvage as much gear as they could. McCoy claimed one of the emergency medical kits (trading out his rainbow one) and found a stray tricorder. Kirk returned to the communications room and searched in vain for a communicator. McCoy informed him that they had been stored where that hole in the wall now was.

He _did_ manage to find a magnetic compass. Viewing an old, half-burnt map, they found the direction they would need to travel to reach Station 5. He packed that into his bag along with a universal translator found protected under a beam. Just in case they ran into any Cananri.

Mainly, their bags were filled with MRE's. Their canteens were latched to the side and a blanket for each of them was stored in a pouch. Kirk crammed the translator and compass into a pocket while McCoy kept the medkit strapped to his side and the tricorder slung over his shoulder. Keeping to his promise made last night, he checked Kirk's skull and deemed that it had healed nicely. Now officially the morning, they set out.

After navigating out of the wreckage, Kirk turned back to the ruined outpost. "Wish we'd found some phasers," he mourned. "Or a skimmer."

"Well, they probably beamed those away when the station fell," McCoy said. "That way the Vertod wouldn't get their hands on anything too dangerous."

Kirk nodded. "Logical. For all we know, some people used the skimmers to escape."

McCoy looked at him as they walked, his eyebrow lifted. "If that's so, then we'll find them at Station 5."

They walked on among the plains. While mostly flat, at times hills dipped and rolled. They took the straightest line they could, following Kirk's compass. To their right, the sun rose higher, heating up the land.

There wasn't much talking. At first they exchanged general comments and memories, but as the day stretched on, conversation dissolved into silence. Already tired and sore, they focused on breathing in the air and taking the next step.

When the sun was almost directly overhead, they stopped in front of a large hill. "Wanna take a lunch break?" McCoy asked, breathing slightly harder than usual. They may have been walking but it wasn't a stroll through the park.

"Sounds good," Kirk agreed, also wanting to catch his breath. His feet hurt. He moved to sit down when McCoy touched his shoulder.

"I know it's noon, but there should be a little more shade on the other side of this hill," the doctor said. "Considering that we have very little in terms of sun protection…"

Kirk frowned, a gripping feeling in his stomach. Somewhere in the back of his head was an odd sensation. But he really, _really_ didn't want to go to the other side of the hill.

"No," he said firmly. "We can stay here."

McCoy seemed surprised, but furrowed his brow. "Why? What's better about this side than the other?"

"I don't know," Kirk admitted. "But… I think if we cross to the other side too soon we'll regret it."

The doctor was unimpressed. "And how exactly do you know this?"

"It's just…" Kirk searched for the right words. "A hunch. A gut feeling. But it's like I've got warning bells right here," he tapped the back of his head.

"It could just be that fracture acting up," McCoy frowned. "Let me take another look at it, just to make sure."

Kirk sat as he examined his head again and waved a scanner over it. He was pronounced clear, but he still had the feeling against going over the ridge.

"Are you hearing something, perhaps?" McCoy asked. "Something that might be dangerous?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so." He noticed that McCoy was still doubtful of anything, so he compromised. "Look, humor me, why don't you. Why don't we creep carefully over the hill and look? If nothing's there, fine. If something is there, and it's dangerous, then we'll stay on this side. But let's not blunder blindly over the top just in case of the latter."

The doctor sighed. "Alright. Let's see what's there… _if_ something's there."

They slinked up through the grass. As they neared the crest, they practically squirmed on their stomachs. Kirk dug his elbows in and pulled himself farther, peeking up over the edge.

A herd of elk-like creatures grazed on the other side. A few more hills were around them. McCoy was stretched out next to him and watched the deer.

"I'm familiar with that species," he said in a low voice. "Though the name escapes me. They're not dangerous; however they could be if they stampede-"

Suddenly a creature leapt out from the grasses around a hill. It looked like a lean, agile bear. In a flash it attacked the heard and pounced on one of the creatures. The others took flight and ran in the opposite direction. There were growls and several braying squeals. The bear dug its teeth into its meal and started dragging it back towards its hill.

Kirk and McCoy watched all of this from their position. When the bear settled down and started devouring the creature, the doctor looked at Kirk.

"How high did you score on your ESP testing?"

Kirk grinned. "I'm practically psi-null. Nothing extraordinary about me."

McCoy grunted. "Well, you've got the intuition of a rabbit that knows when a dog is around."

They lay there, letting the grass tickle their exposed skin. McCoy sighed. "I guess we're eating on the other side." He started to slink back the way they had come.

Kirk caught his elbow. "No, wait. Let's eat in the shade."

McCoy stared at him. "In case you hadn't noticed, there's a _bear_ just across the plain."

"Exactly," Kirk nodded. "I want to keep an eye on it; see where it goes so that we can avoid it later on our walk. Besides," he added, a light grin on his face. "You said it yourself; there is more shade on this side."

He slid down the embankment before McCoy could say anything else. Kirk heard some grumbling, but a moment later the doctor rolled down after him. They sat at the bottom and pulled out their MRE's.

"Do you want to start a fire?" McCoy asked. "These issues can be eaten cold, but they taste worse."

Kirk eyed the bear. "I think I'll avoid being dessert and eat a cold meal," he decided.

McCoy grunted as he opened his food. "More like lukewarm. In this heat they can practically cook themselves."

They forced down the food anyway. The bear eventually left its meal and lumbered off in the direction of the heard- which was thankfully south and not west. They packed their things, drank a little water, confirmed their heading, and set off.

The hills eventually leveled out once more, and they trooped across flat plains. The sun stayed hot as the afternoon progressed. It was early evening when they finally reached the edge of the canyon proper.

Kirk stepped close and leaned over. The drop was dizzying, and he couldn't see the whole way down. The slope was very uneven, so parts of the climb were hidden from their sight. He did spy the lush, green forest at the bottom, and gazed across the expanse to the other side. The cliffs consisted of more white rock.

He scooted away from the edge and dusted himself off. McCoy was looking at him. "Well?"

"It's a long journey," he said. He glanced at the sky. "That would be really bad to take in the dark. We'll have to wait until morning."

McCoy dropped his bag on the ground with a _thunk_. "So we're spending the night here?"

Kirk glanced behind him. "Maybe not so close the edge."

They moved several yards away and set their bags down. McCoy ambled off in a random direction. "I'm going to try and find some brush we can use for a fire while it's still light out."

Kirk agreed. As he set about gathering stray sticks and dead grasses, he felt his gut twinge again.

A fire would be very useful, he figured uneasily. Especially if those dojor hyenas came back.

* * *

**Thank you mtcbones, literary1, Abibliophobia, and Kimberleah for reviewing! I very much appreciate it! I hope this chapter was interesting... I'm a bit impatient for them to get into the canyon already (I've got plans for them) but I'm strictly telling myself to take it slow and pace everything the same; not just rushing to one scene I really want to get to and then speeding to the next as I'm prone to do. I might combine the next two chapters I have planned out simply because chapter six looks a little short- and I don't want to stretch out boring old rock-climbing. I want to focus on the ACTION moments. Stay tuned!**

**Also, because I forgot to mention in the last chapter, in case anybody doesn't know, MRE's are Meals Ready to Eat. Since they're pretty useful, I figure they would have something akin to it in the future (with variations. I don't know whether one can actually eat an MRE cold, so I chalked it up to future developments). I also wanted to get a look at Kirk's famous 'red alert gut feeling'. It had to start somewhere; maybe here he's just now noticing what kind of a warning it is. And I know what the story description says, but trust me, the gear they have is going to dwindle. Oh yeah. I don't own Star Trek throughout this whole story- though I am currently re-watching all the episodes in the order that they were filmed (you can find the list on Wikipedia). **

**More adventure planned! Stay tuned and please review!**


	7. Six

**Chapter 6**

The fire crackled underneath two MRE's as the sky darkened and the horizon purpled with the setting sun. Kirk and McCoy sat on either side of the blaze waiting for their meals to heat. Two blankets were spread out on the ground near their packs. Kirk poked a stick at his bag, moving it closer.

"So," he said idly. McCoy looked up at him when he didn't continue. "So, what?"

Kirk shrugged. "I don't know… just trying to think of something to say."

McCoy watched him poke at his MRE. "Sometimes it's better not saying anything at all."

"Maybe." He leaned back and stretched. Slumping forward again, he rubbed a hand across his face and was surprised to feel scratchy whiskers forming.

The doctor noticed his rubbing. "Repressor wears off after 72 hours. Considering this ends our fourth day of being separated, the hair is starting to grow naturally again."

"I haven't not shaved since before the Academy," Kirk mused.

"That's a long time."

He shrugged. "Not really. Almost four years."

McCoy frowned as he absorbed the information. "So you just got out?"

"Not _just_. It happened several months ago… almost a year since I graduated now."

"But it takes four years to get through the Academy," McCoy pointed out.

Kirk grinned, but tried to suppress it. "I did it in three."

He failed to suppress it even further when both the doctor's eyebrows went up. "Only three years?"

"That's right."

McCoy stared at something, quiet. "You must have been very ambitious," he said at last. "Or the biggest nerd out there."

Kirk threw back his head and laughed. He kept laughing until McCoy nudged his MRE out of the fire so that it wouldn't get burned. When his chuckles subsided he wiped his eyes. "_Damn_ you're good. I was both. I was determined to be the best Starfleet Academy had ever seen and to back it up with what I knew."

"And you succeeded because you were the teenager who read history books in his spare time." McCoy opened his own MRE and started eating.

"Hard work pays off, Bones," he said, digging into his meal.

McCoy sighed. "You probably gave the Academy the biggest scare, or the biggest headache."

Kirk snorted and almost choked on his food. "Are you psychic?" he gasped, swallowing. "Again; both correct. They didn't know whether to applaud me or expel me when I beat the Kobayashi Maru."

It was McCoy's turn to choke on his food. "You did _what_?"

"I beat the Kobayashi Maru," Kirk repeated.

McCoy stared at him. "And how, in Heaven's name, did you do _that_?"

Kirk swallowed. "I reprogrammed the scenario so that I could win."

McCoy still didn't move. Finally he started poking at his food again. "Scare _and_ headache," he muttered. He sighed. "Well, I suppose if I'm stranded on a planet with one other person it would be a good thing to have an ambitious nerd with a penchant for cheating."

"Oh, c'mon, Bones, it wasn't that bad," Kirk said. "I still had fun."

"Oh?" An eyebrow lifted. "Of your own free will?"

"Yes." Pause. "Okay, well, my friend Gary would often drag me away from the desk, but it was always worth it."

"Really."

Kirk nodded. "He knew how to have a good time. Gary Mitchell. He and I got assigned to different ships, but we still keep in touch."

"You two must be close," McCoy commented.

Kirk chuckled. "Yes, I suppose." His voice grew quieter. "He introduced me to Ruth."

A small grin crept onto McCoy's face. "Girlfriend?"

"Mmm," Kirk reflected, a slightly wistful look on his face. "The best." He grew quieter still. "I almost married her."

The silence hung on them. "I won't ask what made it end," McCoy said, returning to his meal.

Kirk shook out of his memories. "Oh. Thanks. I mean, she wasn't the only one, there were others… but she was the best."

"She must've been some girl," McCoy said.

Kirk got a twinkle in his eye. "Well, what about you? Anyone 'special' in your life?" He leaned closer.

McCoy shook his head, a smile on his face. "Nah, Kirk-"

"Jim."

"Alright, Jim. I've been there." He took a bite.

Kirk waited expectantly, but McCoy just kept eating his food. "Well?" he pressed.

"Well, what?"

"Bones, c'mon," Kirk said, grinning. He could see McCoy's slight smile in the firelight. "Who is it?"

"Well, like you, I've had a few girlfriends." He leaned back. "The most recent one was Nancy Crater. She and I broke up about a year ago."

"How long did it last?"

McCoy shrugged. "Oh, some months, perhaps. She was really sweet, though, and smart. Occasionally we'll check in with each other… say 'hi'…"

"But was she _really_ special?" Kirk asked.

McCoy frowned. "Where are you going this, Kirk?"

Kirk, oblivious to the slight warning tone, pointed at McCoy's hand. "You've got a ring on your pinky finger. It looks a little worn, like you've had it a while." He paused. "Are you married?"

Just like that, McCoy's easy demeanor changed. "No," he stated coldly. Kirk sat a little straighter and the fire seemed to shrink. He opened his mouth but was silenced by an intimidating glare. "Don't ever ask me about that again." The words were like ice.

Kirk backed off. "Okay, I'm sorry." He set his tray down.

McCoy sighed, and some of the ice seemed to melt. "You'd better get some rest," he said. "You've been up for almost 20 hours."

Kirk stretched out cautiously on his blanket. "Whatever you say, Bones."

* * *

McCoy settled down by the fire to keep watch. Though he knew that Kirk wasn't asleep just yet. A twist of his head would reveal the lieutenant fiddling with the magnetic compass and staring at the stars. Eventually he dropped the compass and went to sleep. _Good_, McCoy thought. _He needs it._

Absently, he rubbed the ring on his finger. He didn't like to talk about it. He knew that Kirk had simply been making conversation, but it was his least favorite subject and the only way he knew how to get people to shut up about it was to let them know right then and there that it was absolutely _off limits_… and to scare them from ever mentioning it again.

He looked over at Kirk. No, he hadn't meant any harm by it. But at least he seemed to know when he struck a nerve. McCoy contemplated as the fire crackled, sending crazy shadows everywhere. Kirk looked very young, but McCoy knew enough to recognize when someone simply had a youthful face. He did the math based on Kirk's tale of the Academy… that would place him around twenty-one or twenty-two. He grunted. That wasn't too bad.

But Kirk carried himself like someone much older. And he had a magnetic charisma that made you _want_ to listen to him. At least he seemed to know what he was doing. McCoy gave him credit for being practical; the watches, the water, which path to take…

And then there was that intuition. While McCoy was fantastic when it came to reading people (though he would only claim to know a thing or two) Kirk's gift apparently lay in reading events and circumstances. He wasn't psychic, but he had _known_ about the predator-bear from a _feeling_. McCoy got the odd sense that they would be relying on that feeling for a long, long time.

A snap startled McCoy out of his musings. He listened intently, and it came again. He thought he heard snuffling and slowly lifted a stick from the fire, in case an animal was straying too close.

There was a barrage of yips off to his right.

Not just one animal.

Spotting movement among the grasses, he tiptoed over to Kirk and shook his shoulder. "Kirk?" He shook harder. The man could really sleep. "Jim!"

His eyes opened and McCoy motioned for silence. "I think we've got company," he whispered.

As if in reply there were some snarls to their left. Kirk sat up and also reached for stick. There was a howl and then the first dojors showed themselves.

Lithe and eerie in the firelight, they paced swiftly around their camp. The two men kept their torches out, swiping whenever one came too close. There was a growl and one dojor stalked toward a pack. McCoy shoved his torch in its face and it retreated, hissing.

"There's too many, Jim," he said, still circling to keep the flame close to the circling animals. "There are definitely some more in the grasses."

There was a snarl and a dojor lunged at Kirk. He jabbed its chest with the butt end of his torch and kicked it below the ribs. It slunk away, mewling. "Any ideas?"

"They don't like fire," McCoy called. He swung his torch and halted three advancing dojors. "But they'll risk it if they think they can take us!"

An idea popped into Kirk's head. They only had one shot, but it would definitely scare the dojors away. "Bones, can you hold them off by yourself a little longer?"

"What?!"

Kirk rammed his torch against another dojor trying to attack. "I've got an idea!"

"Well, then blazes, man! Do it!"

"Take my torch!"

His throw was lopsided and unbalanced, but McCoy managed to catch it without getting burned. He stepped closer to the fire so that he could cover Kirk.

Kirk grabbed the magnetic compass and quickly opened it up. He cross-circuited the wiring, and made sure that its magnetic components would contain the build-up until just the amount he wanted. He could feel it heat up in his hand. Due to the planet's unnatural magnetic poles and axis, all the compasses had been outfitted, making them much more complicated and, in this case, useful.

He didn't want it to melt the circuitry, though. He grabbed a stick and held the burning end to a loose wire until it caught the tiny piece of cloth he had wrapped around it. It burned quickly, nearing the mess of the rewired circuits like a fuse.

"Bones, duck!"

McCoy batted away some more dojors and hit the dirt as Kirk stood and hurled the compass into the grasses.

A small, but formidable ball of flame erupted.

There were howls and caterwauling as the dojors scattered in a panic. Their yipping could still be heard as they vanished elsewhere in the plains.

McCoy got to his feet. "That was some idea," he commented, watching the embers drift back down.

Kirk nodded grimly. "It may have worked for now, but we no longer have a compass at our disposal."

McCoy eyed him sharply. "That what you used?"

He nodded.

The doctor sighed. "Well, we wouldn't really need until we got out on the other side of the canyon." He put the torches back in the fire. "I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"You did good work," Kirk said.

He grunted. "Thanks, I guess. So did you… that bomb may have saved us."

Kirk waved it off. "It's nothing. Do you think it will be enough to keep them away for the rest of the night?"

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "If _that_ doesn't then nothing will." He thought for a moment. "Though, we should still keep watch in case any _other_ animals didn't get the message."

"Yes. Is it my turn?"

"No, no, the night is still young. Go back to sleep, you'll need your strength for tomorrow."

Kirk settled back down but fixed McCoy with a hard look. "Okay. But don't forget to _wake me_ when it _is_ my turn… don't shoulder it all yourself."

McCoy looked half-amused. "Certainly," he drawled. "I'm not an idiot."

It caught Kirk a little off-guard, but he noticed that McCoy had a gleam in his eyes and a slight smile. He relaxed, and somehow understood that they were back on good terms after his little incident with conversation. He returned the smile and settled back onto his blanket, staring at the stars.

McCoy watched Kirk for a little while, but then turned his attention back to the plains once he was asleep.

A fire-bomb. Clever. So Kirk was clever, knowledgeable, practical, creative and intuitive. _He'd make a fine captain one day_, McCoy thought idly.

* * *

**Thank you Kimberleah, mtcbones, and literary1 for reviewing! And thank you, everyone who's following this adventure! Turns out I didn't combine this chapter with the next because it came out longer than I expected. That's alright, though. You've got to have _some_ breaks in the action for the characters to get to know each other. It was a fine opportunity for them to chat (and fight off dojors).**

**It's common knowledge that Kirk did the Academy in three years and defeated the Kobayashi Maru. However, he _was_ a nerd. 'Shore Leave' suggests this when he tells Bones that he was absolutely grim, and in 'Where No Man has Gone Before' Gary Mitchell talks to Kirk of their Academy days and says how Kirk was 'a stack of books with legs' and that with Kirk it was 'either think it or sink it'. Gary also mentioned how he introduced Kirk to a blond, lab technician that Kirk almost married. I've been doing the math for when he may have met Carol Marcus, but I don't believe it's her. Instead, I picked Ruth, the mysterious girl Kirk sees again in 'Shore Leave'. We don't know much about her, but they were obviously very in love, once, and she's blond. I'm saying that she is that lab technician Gary hooked him up with.**

**Also, in 'The Man Trap' McCoy mentions that he knew Nancy Crater about 10 or 12 years ago. Considering how often people _round_ to 10, I believe 12 years is more accurate, so their relationship would've taken place a bit before this adventure, which is 11 years before the mission. Also, the ring (I'm saying) refers to McCoy's previous marriage. I describe where I believe that takes place in the Prologue.**

**I hope y'all liked this chapter! Please review, everyone!**


	8. Seven

**Chapter 7**

The sun was up, but still low, so though the cliffs and plains were illuminated, the canyon was still cast in shadow. Kirk and McCoy stood at the edge, looking down. Neither really wanted to begin the journey. Perhaps it would be easier, however, lowering themselves down instead of hauling themselves up. After all, they had a gravity working in their favor… a fact which was prominent on both their minds.

"We really can't see an entire path," Kirk said, scooting away from the brink again. "The cliffs double back and wind around… there's no telling what we'll come across."

McCoy paraphrased for him. "So we're just picking a path and going with it?"

Kirk sighed. "Looks like it."

He shouldered his pack, turned around, got on his stomach, and lowered himself over the edge. Feeling around with his feet, he found a jutting rock, tested its strength, and then stood on it. He looked up at McCoy. "Some rope would be handy, but I think we can make do." He continued to descend.

McCoy followed down after him, keeping firm grips on the rocks. Crevasses, rocks, and scrub all provided handholds, but several times it was a scary stretch between them. The worst part about climbing the cliffs proper, and not a rock slide, was that there were fewer places wide enough for them to rest on.

The sun rose higher, drenching the cliffs in light and heat. McCoy craned his neck over his shoulder to look across the canyon. The other side was in shadow. He grunted. For the morning. He figured in the afternoon their side would be shaded while the other was lit up.

He heard Kirk swear below him. "What is it?" he called.

"Steep drop, right below me," floated up the answer. "I think we can go around it, though… if we can get to the right…"

Slowly, agonizingly they crawled horizontal. To his surprise, McCoy found going down much easier. As they continued to descend, they passed the smooth section Kirk had spoken about. McCoy shuddered. That would not have been a fun trip.

It was almost noon when they noticed that a small noise had joined them. Kirk slid over a jutting rock and dropped onto a ledge below. "Bones!" he called. "You've got to see this!"

McCoy made his way down and also over the ledge. He let go and- for a heart stopping moment- fell, but landed on the ledge Kirk was standing on.

He got to his feet and noticed that the noise had become a roar. He looked to where Kirk was and saw a waterfall roaring out from the middle of the canyon right next to them.

"Must be an underground river," he said.

Kirk stuck out his canteen and filled it, though he had to keep a tight grip on it so that the force of the water wouldn't wrench it away. Half of the ledge they were on was slick with spray. McCoy wandered over to see where the waterfall ended, and saw a small lake or pond at the bottom. At this height, size was difficult to tell.

They camped on the ledge and ate lunch. The spraying falls provided some relief from the heat. They washed their faces and hands and drank their fill.

"We can follow the waterfall down," Kirk said. "It provides a clear path with plenty of handholds because the surrounding rocks have been unevenly eroded."

McCoy frowned. "I don't know, Kirk. Don't forget that the rocks will be wet and slippery."

"Well, not _too_ close to the waterfall, but near it. Besides, it's a good source of water, and it's important to stay hydrated."

McCoy rolled his eyes at the 'doctor card'. "I know that. It's also important to _not fall_."

"We'll stay on the dry rocks adjacent to the falls," Kirk promised.

The doctor sighed. "Alright."

When they were rested they started clambering down again. After they'd started moving down, McCoy wondered how Kirk was planning to avoid the body of water at the bottom. Closer, he realized that it wasn't very big. It was more like a large pond. Of course, that said nothing about how deep it was.

Kirk had also noticed the pond. It was one of the reasons he wanted to stick close to the waterfall. That way, if one of them _did_ fall, there was a better chance of survival than just splatting on the canyon below.

They were level with the tops of the trees. It provided a little shade, and Kirk noticed just how dense the forest probably was. He was hot and felt burnt. Those trees would provide a blessing. After several days of trekking through the heat, it would be a nice change to journey in a cool forest.

The shadows suddenly grew quickly. Craning his head to look back up the cliffs, Kirk figured that the top was cutting the sun off prematurely. It would get dark soon. "Hey, Bones!" he shouted up. "We might want to pick up the pace to reach the bottom before it gets too dark to see!"

And then it had to happen. Leaning back to talk to McCoy, Kirk's tenuous foothold in a cleft suddenly gave out. His other foot had been seeking a hold, and one hand was clutching a pretty firm rock- except that rock had been exposed to spray. His weight wrenched him from the cliff and he started plummeting to the bottom.

Kirk thought he heard his name, but for several seconds it was like every part of his body and every thought had frozen. There was nothing to catch, nothing to hold onto, so he just fell. _This is it,_ he thought.

_SPLASH!_

Hitting the water stung like crazy, but the cool liquid eased his burnt feeling. He blinked, suddenly aware that he was alive and could move… and had to get to the surface.

Kicking, he surged upwards. He began to mildly panic as the surface ceased to come. _Where is it? Where is it?_ He thought wildly.

Sound suddenly returned and he gasped, sucking in air. There it was. The pond was apparently very deep. He glimpsed McCoy recklessly sliding down the cliff to him before he was pulled back under. It occurred to Kirk that his pack and clothes were weighing him down.

He struggled to reach the surface again. Maybe an edge of the pond. But he couldn't lose his pack… it had half of their food.

He broke the surface again and heard a splash. McCoy had forgone the cliffs and dove in after him. _But Bones, what about your pack?_

Kirk was fairly close to an edge. He kicked and spluttered water every time he went under, but he finally felt ground beneath his feet. He was exhausted from the climb and unexpected swim. His limbs felt so heavy. Oddly, wading just seemed to slow him down so he collapsed in the water, just to catch his breath-

Almost immediately someone wrenched him up. Kirk grunted, the force had the great potential to dislocate his shoulder. He was pulled back and away and became aware of an odd spitting sound. Shoved to the ground (all in a matter of seconds) he twisted out of his pack and turned to see McCoy clubbing something with a branch. The tree limb twisted, and then the doctor flipped something out of the water and onto the bank.

It was a snake.

Kirk watched McCoy continue to stun the snake with the branch until it stopped moving. Poking it to make sure it was dead, the doctor finally sighed and turned to where Kirk was still on the ground, panting hard.

"Water moccasin," he heaved. "Saw a lot of those in Georgia… figured something similar would hang around a pond on another planet, too."

Kirk noticed that McCoy was dripping wet like him, but he didn't see the doctor's pack. Or tricorder. Or medkit. "Where's your gear?"

McCoy pointed around the pond closer to the cliffs. "I dropped everything somewhere over there before diving in." He stopped and caught his breath. "Are you okay?"

"Sore," Kirk said. "And unbelievably tired." He shifted, and McCoy helped him stand up.

"Your pack's open," he noticed.

Kirk dropped back to his knees and began frantically searching through it, seeing what was lost. Everything was soaked, but his blanket and universal translator were still there. So were several MRE's, though not as many as before.

"It's alright." McCoy's hand on his shoulder stopped his swearing. "We'll manage. We should probably start a fire and dry some of your things out."

Kirk nodded and wearily got to his feet. McCoy trotted off and returned with his things. They had landed strewn across the bank (the tricorder in a briar patch) but still dry and intact. Kirk noticed a small stream winding away from the pond and suggested that they follow it. At least for the night.

"Okay," McCoy said. He took his branch and walked back over to the snake. "But not too close. Other critters like water."

"What are you doing with that?" Kirk asked, gesturing the dead snake.

McCoy lifted an eyebrow. "We need to be extra careful with our MRE's now. So this is our dinner."

Kirk closed his mouth.

They found a clear section in the forest close (but not too close) to the stream and started a small fire as it darkened into night. Kirk watched as McCoy used a rock to scrape part of the back of the snake's head off. Then he took an empty vial from his medkit and started coaxing a clear liquid from the snake into it.

"What are you doing?" Kirk inquired.

McCoy glanced up at him. "Tapping its venom sac." He held up the snake and opened its mouth. "See the fangs? And the flatter, triangular head? Even on Diodorus these are signs of a venomous snake. I'm collecting its poison."

Kirk observed the process for several more moments. "Why?"

The doctor shrugged. "You never know when it might come in handy."

He filled the vial and capped it, setting it delicately into his medkit. After that he used the same rock to cut off the snake's head. "Just in case I didn't get all of the venom." Kirk proffered a stick, and they started roasting the serpent over the fire.

"Well," McCoy commented. "We finally made it."

Kirk took a moment to look around. "Yes," he said softly. They were in the canyon, but (no pun intended) weren't out of the woods yet. "But I'll relax once we reach Station 5."

McCoy nodded. He poked the snake and said it looked pretty good. Using rocks, they cut it up and started eating. It tasted very unusual to Kirk, and judging by McCoy's face he wasn't used to the meat, either. He looked down.

"Thank you."

"Hm?" McCoy said, chewing.

"For pulling me out of the way of this thing," Kirk gestured the snake. "Thank you."

McCoy swallowed and looked at him. "You're welcome. But you would've done the same for me, Jim."

Kirk smiled and McCoy didn't notice until he looked away from his snake. "What?"

"You called me Jim."

"Oh," McCoy said. "Well, if you don't-"

"No, no, it's fine," Kirk said, still smiling. "I like it when people call me Jim… makes me feel a little more human."

"Because it's your first name?" McCoy asked. Then he frowned. "Wait. Your first name is James…"

"But I go by Jim," Kirk explained. At McCoy's confusion he elaborated. "I told you you could call me 'Jim' last night, up on the plains." He smiled. "That's probably where you got 'Jim' from."

"Okay, good," McCoy relaxed. "I don't want to go crazy just yet, calling people 'Jim' when I only know them as 'James'… alright."

They finished the snake and edged closer to the fire to dry out and warm up. Kirk's blanket was still wet, but McCoy told him that he could use his since he was taking first watch again. "It's unwise for someone who took second watch to take first watch the next night, because then they'll have been up close to 24 hours, and we want to _avoid_ that," the doctor admonished. "Besides, I'm not the one who fell off a cliff and was nearly bitten by a poisonous snake. Now, _sleep_… doctor's orders."

"Alright, Bones," Kirk relented, settling in by the fire. His tired muscles relaxed, but he was relieved that, for the next three days at least, there would be no more rock climbing.

They just had to cross the canyon.

* * *

**Finally, they're in the canyon! It's about time, I've been waiting to get to it. Thank you literary1, mtcbones, Guest, and Abibliophobia for reviewing! I was going to have this chapter out yesterday, but I got _really_ busy (real life happens). I hope y'all enjoy this one as much as the others. I'm a step closer from 'Kirk and McCoy' to 'Jim and Bones'. YAY! But there's still a lot of this story left to go. I've got twists and other adventures and obstacles planned. So stay tuned and please review, everybody!**


	9. Eight

**Chapter 8**

The next day did not dawn bright and early because the canyon walls and looming trees blocked much of the sun's light. Kirk had to be sure it was actually morning before reaching over and waking McCoy. They ate breakfast, looked dismally at their dwindling MRE's, and set out.

Kirk fiddled with the universal translator. It appeared to have dried out, and Starfleet equipment was known for being durable, but he still wanted to make sure.

"Does it still work?" McCoy asked.

"Dunno." He continued to turn it over in his hands. "Do you know any foreign words?"

McCoy thought for a moment. "Guten Tag."

"Good day," the translator said. The screen lit up with 'German'.

Kirk grinned. "_Shacha_," he said.

"Hello."

McCoy leaned over. "What language is that?"

"Vulcan," Kirk replied. "I took it for my foreign language class in the Academy. I don't remember everything, but a few words stuck around."

McCoy grunted. "I've met a few Vulcans," he commented as they walked. "Not exactly the most friendly of folk."

"Still, they _are_ a big part of the galaxy," Kirk said. He fiddled some more with the translator. "Well, it can recognize languages already programmed in," he mused. "But what about deciphering unknown languages?"

They were silent as they walked on through the forest. McCoy sighed. "I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we get there. _If_ we get there."

"Yes." Kirk pocketed the translator. "Let's hope we have a rather uneventful journey." He shouldered through some brambles.

"You mean, more uneventful than we've had already?" McCoy asked, choosing to swerve around the briar patch.

"Well, you have to admit, of all the things that have happened," Kirk grinned. "Luck stays on our side."

McCoy raised an eyebrow (how often does he _do_ that, Kirk wondered). "Luck?" he dead-panned. "Jim, we've fallen off a cliff, the outpost which was supposed to be our refuge was destroyed, we were attacked by dojors, destroying our compass in the process, fell off some more cliffs and nearly died in a pond and we have to make sure we won't die of thirst, exposure or starvation and you call that luck?"

"Exactly," Kirk said. "With all that, we're lucky to be alive."

McCoy blinked and shook his head. "We've still a ways to go."

"Yeah," Kirk said.

McCoy frowned and looked back at him. "Jim, are you okay? You look a little flushed."

"I do?" Kirk inquired. He considered that. Perhaps it was sunburn? His breathing was a little heavy.

McCoy was waving his medical scanner over him. "Your heart rate's up a little high," he noted. "Wanna take a break?"

Kirk nodded. "Sure."

He dropped his pack and sat down right there. They rested a few minutes before McCoy scanned him again. "Jim, that heart rate's not any lower."

"Nor is my breathing," Kirk said. He was still panting. "Why isn't the rest helping…?"

McCoy ran the scanner over his whole body, his eyes flicking over for any injuries. "Jim, can you pull up your shirt a bit on your right side?" Kirk complied and McCoy examined a few light scratches. He scanned them, and then looked back the way they came. "Ah."

"What is it?"

The doctor opened his medkit and pulled out a hypo. "That patch of thorns back there. Apparently they're slightly toxic. Don't worry, it's nothing deadly." He emptied the hypo into Kirk's side and quelled his widening eyes. "Just aggravated your system. Caused breathing difficulties and elevated heart rate; the general anti-toxin I injected you with should help clear it up."

"Thanks."

A minute or two later his breathing evened out and the flush dissipated. They resumed their journey mindful of any and all thorny plants. For although dojors, bears, and other animals roamed the plains, it was easy to forget that the forest had other, simpler dangers.

* * *

"I think we're lost."

"Of course we are."

"Oh, so you _admit_ it."

"We're not following any particular path, Bones, but it doesn't matter as long as we reach the other side of the canyon."

"Mm-hm. And if we reach the cliffs _without_ crossing the river then we'll know that we've just been going in circles and wasting time."

"I know that. We haven't been going in circles."

"Are you sure?"

"…"

"Glory, Jim."

"Bones, we don't have a compass anymore; what would you suggest we do?"

"How are you at tree climbing?"

"Me?"

"Am I talking to myself?"

"I didn't do a lot of it as a kid. Iowa's pretty flat, you know."

"Okay, okay. Look, I'll climb a tree, get our bearings, and then we can be sure that we're still heading in a straight line for the other side. Does that work?"

"How good are you at climbing trees?"

"I spent half my childhood up in 'em."

"Alright, then."

McCoy set his pack down and wandered over to a couple of trees, finding which one would be the best. Kirk also set his things on the ground and watched. The doctor found a sturdy branch and hoisted himself up.

Kirk paced around the base of the tree. At times he would crane his neck up and search for McCoy among the leaves. Each time the doctor was higher than the last. He resumed his pacing, a bit anxious to know their course.

"Jim!" McCoy yelled down. Kirk looked up and shouted back. "What is it?"

"I can see the other side from here!" McCoy scooted further out onto his branch, balancing carefully. "We've been drifting to the right a bit!"

"So which way?" Kirk called.

McCoy examined and pointed. Then he realized that Kirk would have a hard time seeing him. "You know the way we were walking? A few degrees more to the left." An idea struck him and he fumbled for his tricorder. "We need to go to 4 mark 7 by .2!"

Kirk repeated the numbers in his head and traced the path from their gear. They hadn't been terribly far off, but it would still have cost time and resources. "Okay!" he shouted up. "Why don't you come back down?"

"Just a sec!"

Kirk returned to their packs as McCoy began easing back towards the trunk. He examined their food store. It wasn't the greatest. The water had damaged several of his MRE's and so they'd been making do with McCoy's supply. He had a handful left. Kirk surveyed their surroundings. The forest was rich with life and teeming with nutrients, so it would probably be smart to eat what the planet provided and save the MRE's for when they got back up on the plains. He wondered if there were any fruits or small animals they could eat.

Suddenly there was a snap and a shout. Kirk wrenched away from his thoughts in time to see a flash of blue plummet to the ground. McCoy landed with a disturbing _thud_.

"Bones!" Kirk shouted, racing towards him. The doctor was on his back, staring at the sky. His eyes were wide and he seemed to be struggling to say something, but no words came out. Kirk collapsed beside him and noticed that he wasn't breathing.

"Bones, God, shit!" He backtracked and grabbed McCoy's medkit. He pulled out the scanner as he returned to the doctor and waved it over him. He bit his lip. "Um…"

He turned and started rummaging through the medkit when there was a gasp behind him. He whirled and saw McCoy sucking in air and swearing.

"McCoy! Are you alright?" He braced a hand on the doctor's shoulder as he continued to cough and swear, sitting up.

"I'm… damn… fine, just," he wheezed. "No need to panic… just knocked the damn wind outta me…" He choked in more air until his breathing evened out and Kirk's heart stopped hammering.

"Jim," he said, turning to look at him. "I appreciate your concern… but you are not a doctor."

"Would you rather I have done nothing?" Kirk replied automatically, a little riled and indignant.

"Nothing was fine, wasn't it?" McCoy groused, trying to get to his feet. Kirk tightened his grip.

"What if you had broken something?" he said.

"Jim," McCoy leveled a steady stare at him. "Again, I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine. What's with you, anyway? You're not a doctor. You're a lieutenant."

Kirk relaxed his grip and helped Bones to his feet. "Yeah," he trailed. "But you said it like…"

"An insult?" McCoy raised an eyebrow. "More like a fact. I saw you using the scanner."

"And?"

"And you were holding it wrong," McCoy said simply. "You were taking readings of the air above me." He quirked a smile. "So again, I'm thankful that you wanted to help, but you are not a doctor."

Kirk suddenly realized that he'd been holding his breath. He let it out in a nervous chuckle, releasing his tension. Bones was alright and in front of him. The ripping panic that his only companion had died and that he would have to go on alone- that had been too much, and too sudden. He was used to death, but if it was someone that you had spoken with, gotten to know…

He swallowed. "Yeah," he said. "Okay. I'll be sure to leave all future doctoring to you."

McCoy grinned. "Alright then, Jim." He turned, frowned, and picked up the tricorder that had fallen with him.

"Is it damaged?" Kirk asked.

"Well," McCoy mused. "It's got a dent in a place where I don't like dents to be…" He turned it on. "It still seems to work."

"Good," Kirk said, gathering his pack. "Now, are you sure you're alright?"

"Sore," McCoy grimaced. "But still intact." He shouldered his gear. "We'd better get moving. We've still got a lot a long ways of forest left and half the day to keep crossing it."

"Yes," Kirk agreed, his mind elsewhere. He shook out of it. They were both fine. His stomach rumbled slightly but he ignored it. They needed to ration their food, and they couldn't stop for lunch now. They'd already spent enough time in one place. Determined, they moved on.

* * *

**Thank you Abibliophobia, mtcbones, and literary1 for reviewing! Yes, real life does happen. I want to show a little bit on all the things that we take for granted that they have to worry about (such as toxic plants, falling out of trees, food, water, sunburn, etc.) Thus, this chapter is a little more on the 'survival' side of things. But they aren't out of the woods yet!**

**As far as the foreign languages go, it would be logical (no pun intended) for Vulcan to be taught at the Academy, as well as other languages of prominent species in the Federation. I chose for McCoy to know a German word or two based on his friend Dieter in Doctor's Orders by Diane Duane. Dieter seemed to be from the German region of Europe, and you see him in Switzerland with McCoy from the novel.**

**Also, I evaluated their respective tree-climbing skills based on their home regions. Having been to both Iowa and Georgia, I can tell you that Georgia has more trees. Thus, I believe McCoy to have better tree-climbing skills (or at least be more used to it). I hope you enjoyed this chapter; please review, y'all! And Merry Christmas Adam! ('Cause Christmas Eve is tomorrow) ;)**


	10. Nine

**Chapter 9**

It was slower moving through the forest as there were several pockets of dense foliage, trees, and briars that they had to swerve around and avoid. On the plains it had been easy to travel in a straight line. Also, the light lasted longer on the plains because the land was flatter. Kirk and McCoy soon found it darkening quickly as the shadows from the trees and cliffs overlapped and grew.

"Do you suppose there's anything to eat around here?" Kirk asked as they trooped to find a clear spot to make camp. "I'd rather save what MRE's we have left."

"We might be able to find some nuts and fruit," McCoy considered. He squinted through the dark. "Jim, we'll need light to find anything. Why don't we settle down for the night?"

Kirk agreed and they cleared some brush to set down their packs. A few minutes later and they had a small fire going, illuminating their surroundings.

McCoy wandered a bit into the forest, poking around, seeing if there was anything edible readily nearby. They figured if they found nothing then they would have no choice but to crack open the MRE's. Kirk also fiddled among the foliage, pushing away plants, avoiding any more thorns…

Was that color?

Spying something other than green, Kirk reached a hand back and pushed away some leaves on a bush. Hidden underneath was a cluster of beautiful, glistening, red berries.

"Bones!" he called. "I may have found something!" He waited as McCoy joined his position and the doctor ran the tricorder over them. The high-pitched whirring sound was faintly shaky.

"They're just within the boundaries safe for consumption," McCoy reported. He tapped the tricorder and it made an odd noise. "According to this."

"Well, only one way to find out for sure." Kirk plucked a berry off of the bush and ate it, chewing slowly. McCoy moved a hand to his medkit, just in case.

"How is it?"

"Good," Kirk said. He swallowed. "Sweet, juicy… like a regular berry." He reached for some more.

They gathered several berries from the bush and returned to their nearby camp. They ate quietly and heartily, tired from the day and still hungry.

McCoy picked up a stick and started tracing figures in the dirt, fiddling absently. His posture indicated he was taking his customary position of first watch, so Kirk pulled out his blanket and stretched out on his back, peering through the trees at the stars. They said good-night and lapsed into silence.

Kirk's mind buzzed. He felt strangely alert despite his body feeling tired. _Tomorrow, with any luck, we'll cross the river,_ he thought. _Unless we're at one of the bends, in which case it will happen later or earlier, depending. If it happens in the middle of the day, then we'll have to eat lunch before or after we cross it… we can't very well do it in the middle._ He giggled at an image of the two of them floating in a river, trying to munch a snack. _You know what rivers have? Fish! I bet that river has so much fish they're leaping out onto the banks._ His river-fantasy changed to fish jumping everywhere. Lazily, he tried to reach out and grab one. He missed, so he tried again and failed. Frustrated, he started blindly snapping for a jumping fish, wondering how they were still avoiding him when the air was full of them. He missed yet another one and growled in protest, glaring at the dark sky.

Oh, he could see the stars. They hovered above him, just out of reach. Would they dare avoid him, too? They had no right! He had reached the stars, he had touched them, he could have them, they _were not_ out of his reach!

They must have gotten the message, for they started plummeting down towards him. The atmosphere could not hold them back. They broke through the trees and as they fell around him Kirk suddenly felt a peculiar, jolting sense of motion… he was floating.

Thrashing, he sat straight up on the ground (which he had never left). The falling stars turned into a burning fire next to him, with a man on the other side. It was the only stable point, as the rest of the world rotated around it in a slow spin. Kirk crawled towards the blaze, and looked at McCoy.

Bones sat cross-legged, unblinking. He gazed into the fire in a trance. His nimble fingers still fiddled with the stick, however. Methodically, he snapped it in half into smaller and smaller pieces. The pieces got tinier and tinier but he was unaware of the twigs littering the ground before him as he gazed into the fire, his expression completely blank.

Kirk chuckled as the rotation around them sped up, and he rested his head on the ground, grinning at his own dizziness. Suddenly he heard his chuckle repeated, and rage swelled at intense volumes within him at the sound of the familiar gloating, pointing, laughing-

"FINNEGAN!" he roared, surging to his feet. Oh, there he was, cocky smirk and annoying laugh. Just standing there! Kirk lunged at him and began beating his fists against that baby face, over and over and over, beating that annoying laugh out of him-!

McCoy was laughing. He still hadn't moved from the campfire and he was in the grip of all-out hysterics. His maniacal chuckles drifted through the forest and he was dimly aware of Kirk brutalizing a tree. The stick was littered before him in pieces. He just laughed harder. His sides hurt, he laughed so much!

Kirk suddenly gave a throaty cry of triumph. He wrenched a large limb down from the tree and screamed "I have it! I have it! I have his head! I _have your_ head! HA!" He held the branch up high and paraded it around, crowing about his success.

McCoy dragged a stick out of the fire, now that his laughter subsided, and slowly stood up and turned around. Kirk was aware of someone nearby, and he looked to see the doctor rising, eyes alight (or crazed?) and a wide grin on his face as he held up his flaming torch.

"Burn."

The word was low, but embellished, grating, but reverent. It shook through Kirk's core and he felt as if someone was electrifying him from the inside out. And the word consumed him, filled him, with a purpose, a great purpose! He looked at Finnegan's head clutched in his hands and smiled wickedly.

"Yes!"

His foe met with McCoy's torch and caught fire. Shouting and screaming, whooping and hollering, their excitement grew as their branches burned. They ran until the wood burned down, which surprisingly hurt their hands and so they dissolved what was left back into the campfire. Each saw the other chatting animatedly, singing, or engaged deep in a serious conversation with someone who wasn't there. Kirk followed the mist-figures he saw until he reached a familiar location. Digging through the leaves, he burrowed further and further until he reached more clusters of the gleaming red berries.

He wanted them. They called. So he scooped as many as he could out of the bush and cradled them close, popping several into his mouth.

"Mine!"

Someone bowled him over and Kirk and McCoy wrestled on the ground. The berries that didn't spill into the forest were getting crushed between them, which sent both men into a panic. "No! No! You can't!" McCoy stopped talking and stuffed some of the berries in his mouth. Kirk growled and kicked him hard in the ribs. Bones seized his shirt and pulled, but off-balance, the two went rolling.

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

The two fought some more before Kirk started screaming about falling stars and McCoy wrenched away, hell-bent on chasing someone named Jocelyn. Kirk licked some of the crushed berries off of his fingers, and set off for the only source of light other than the falling stars. The fire before him grew and grew and grew into a monstrous image that glared and grinned down at him…

Fevered and mad, the insanity continued until darkness finally consumed them both.

* * *

The first thing Kirk was aware of were the tree branches swishing above him. He blinked and they focused. The next thing he realized was that he could see; there was light.

Groaning, he sat up, and noticed that he was in some sort of thicket. Tugging himself out, he stumbled into the small clearing and noticed the burnt-out campfire.

The clearing was a wreck.

The ground was scuffed up, tree branches hung awkwardly, a blanket was hanging from a sapling, and their packs had spilled out all over the place. One area looked as if someone had started digging a hole for no good reason. Kirk frowned as he noticed a great amount of dirt on his hands.

He started to collect the MRE's back into the bags when he realized he didn't know where McCoy was. He stood up ramrod straight and was about to call out when he heard a small whirring noise from somewhere. Following it, he shoved through the brush and came across McCoy who was standing by a bush and running a medical scanner over himself.

"You alright?" Kirk asked.

McCoy snapped off the scanner and looked at him. Kirk noticed that the doctor was filthy and he had bruises adorning him. One hand bore several small cuts. "I'll live," he said. "How are you? Other than very sore."

Surprised, Kirk patted himself over. He winced when his hands touched several bruises. Both his knuckles had dried blood and scabs. "I'll be fine." He looked around. "What in the world happened?"

McCoy sighed. "From what I can tell, it was those berries we ate. The tricorder didn't pick up anything unusual, but it's tough to tell just how damaged it got when I took that fall. I took some readings of my metabolism with the scanner, and my best guess is that as we digested the berries it released chemicals that caused massive hallucinations." He ran a hand through his hair. "And everything else that may have happened."

Kirk nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "How much?" he began tentatively. "Do you remember last night?"

Bones grew thoughtful, but tossed up his hands. "Jim, I woke up under a tree with a blanket wrapped around my head- I don't know _what_ all happened last night. Best I can r'member is just flashes."

"Same here," Kirk gingerly touched a tender area near his jaw. "I remember a lot about fire… something about it." He winced when he pressed too hard. "I wish I knew how I got this."

McCoy looked slightly embarrassed. "Actually, I think I gave you that," he said.

"What?"

"The shiner on your jaw? I dunno… I remember something about us fighting, waving torches, and people who had no right to be here." McCoy shook his head.

"Well, I think it's safe to say," Kirk said after some moments of silence. "That we should really avoid those berries from now on."

"Couldn't agree more."

* * *

**Hey, y'all! Sorry it's been a while between updates, but the holidays and other stuff have been keeping me busy (I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas/Hanukkah/other holidays!) I hope this chapter delivers to make up for the wait; I'd been looking forward to writing it. Thank you mtcbones and Kimberleah for reviewing the last chapter!**

**The craziness behind this one is that I also wanted something crazy to happen to them that would increase bonding. It makes it more personal if you were there with your buddy when insanity blew up in your faces. It was really fun to write and I hope I pulled it off okay. Finnegan was the bane of Kirk's Academy days as learned in 'Shore Leave'. Fanon often indicates that McCoy's ex-wife's name is Jocelyn. Other than that, those berries are definitely hallucinogens.**

**I hope y'all liked this one! Please review if this was okay, and if you have any suggestions (and if you just want to say something)! Thanks, y'all! **


	11. Ten

**Chapter 10**

The forest was quiet as they walked. They didn't see any animals, but occasionally heard scuffling off in the distance. The trees provided adequate shade as Siculus rose higher in the sky.

Kirk's thoughts wandered from their current situation, to Starfleet, to his memories, and back to their current situation. He admired some of the flora, though wisely kept his distance. A variety of leaves, flowers, and even mushrooms sprung up everywhere. He stooped to examine a peculiar-looking toadstool, when he noticed something in the ground next to it.

"Bones," he called, waving the doctor over. "Does that look like what I think it is?"

McCoy looked to where he was pointing. "Huh," he said. "I guess so."

It was a footprint.

A _humanoid_ footprint.

"It's not ours," Kirk determined. "We have boots on, and you can see the toes." He straightened. "Do you know of any Cananri down here?"

"No," McCoy said. "However, there are a lot of things I don't know."

Kirk frowned, concerned. If there were Vertod forces down in the canyon, then it spelled bad news for him and McCoy, because they were Starfleet.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," McCoy said. "Probably just someone who passed through ages ago."

"Maybe," Kirk mumbled. He shrugged it off. "Let's keep going."

He noticed a couple more footprints as they walked, but kept his mouth shut. Instead, he focused on trying to figure out how they would cross the river. Would it be shallow enough to walk across? Probably not. What if there were rapids? That would certainly pose a problem. If it was an average river then they could always swim. But what if there was unfriendly aquatic life in it? Kirk shivered at the thought of an extraterrestrial alligator.

Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and looked at it. It looked like a pile of… something. He stepped closer. It was a pile of some sweet-smelling spice.

"Bones," he called again. "Now what do you make of this?"

McCoy frowned. "I don't know," he said honestly. He stepped closer to Kirk. "Wha-?"

"Agh!"

"Oomph!"

Quicker than a mousetrap the net snatched them up. Kirk and McCoy collided roughly against one another and in the following moments the forest heard a string of colorful expletives. McCoy was still cursing when Kirk oriented himself enough to look around.

"Bones."

"Dammit, dammit, why?!"

"Bones."

"This has got to be what? The umpteenth time some shit gets thrown at us? _Damn_ it all!"

"Bones."

Kirk waited as McCoy cursed Murphy's Law several more times. There were some words he didn't recognize and several languages. When the tirade died down he said, "Are you done?"

"No." McCoy craned his head back and shouted one last f-bomb at the law. "Okay, now I'm done."

"I have to admit, I've never heard anyone with a vocabulary quite like yours," Kirk remarked, amused.

"I've been told I can peel paint off the walls."

"I don't doubt it."

They both twisted, trying to get a look around. They were mashed together stomach to stomach with the net pulled taut around them. Each tried to make sure his foot wouldn't fall through a hole and make a bad predicament worse.

"Well," McCoy said. "At least we know for sure that there are people in these woods."

Kirk glanced at him. "I thought you said those footprints were nothing to worry about."

"I never said that!"

"You did."

"Not exactly."

Kirk sighed and shifted, making the net spin slowly. "Do we have any sharp instruments? Maybe something to cut through this?"

McCoy thought. "Not really. Unless you count our teeth."

Kirk eyed the ropes. "I think it's a little too thick for that." He looked up to where the net was knotted to a branch. "Maybe if we targeted the top…" He shifted, stretching up. "If I could just get- ow! Ow! Bones! Move the- ow!"

"What?"

"Tricorder- ribs. Ow!"

"Hang on," McCoy shuffled his arms and yanked the tricorder to his side. "Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Kirk returned his attention to what he was doing. "I think I can reach-"

"Ow! Watch your elbow!"

"Sorry."

" 's'okay, I can live with half my skull busted in."

"Bones…"

"Sorry."

As Kirk stretched his arm further towards the knot, the whole net spun some more. McCoy glimpsed something around Kirk's torso. "Um, Jim?"

"Yeah?" Kirk grunted.

His eyes never left what he saw. "I think we have company."

"What?"

Kirk withdrew his arm (slowly and awkwardly) and peered out through the net. Cananri were slowly creeping out from the trees. Only they weren't Vertod. These Cananri wore animal hides and feathers, with paint marking their bodies. They were all men, and carried spears, clubs, slingshots and other weapons. They circled the two suspended men, eyeing them with curiosity.

"Indians," McCoy murmured. "Of course."

One stepped close to them and tugged a string. Instantly the net dropped and they collapsed on top of each other, grunting and rolling. Hands tugged the net off of them and yanked them up. Kirk and McCoy found spears pointed at them from all sides, and a burly Cananri stepped forward and muttered some guttural words.

The silence meant he expected an answer. McCoy nudged Kirk. "Uh, Jim? You wouldn't happen to have that universal translator still on you, would you?"

"It's in my bag," Kirk murmured back. He held his hands up in a gesture of peace and surrender, and slowly pulled his pack off and set it on the floor. Several hands tightened around the spears, but nobody moved. Carefully, Kirk unclipped the universal translator and turned it on. He nodded towards the Cananri. "What did you say?"

The Indian snarled and repeated it. The translator digested the words, stringing together syntax and grammar. 'Who are you?'

Kirk spoke into the translator. "I am Lt. James T. Kirk and this is Dr. Leonard McCoy," he said. The Indians gave a gasp at the words spilling out of the translator in their language. They whispered among one another and cast suspicious and fearful glances at them.

"Please," Kirk said, hoping to get a grip on the situation before it spiraled out of control. "Could you help us? We are trying to reach the other side of the canyon."

The Cananri considered their words and appearance. Kirk could only imagine how they looked. Filthy and tanned, clothes torn, a healthy amount of stubble, scratches; overall unkempt. Surely they could see that their desperation was legitimate.

The burly Cananri stepped forward again. "What is for you on the other side?"

"We have to reach the top," McCoy said. "To get back to our people."

The Cananri conferred some more. "That is quite a journey," he said again.

"We've traveled far," Kirk said. "We must reach our people."

The man nodded. "Yet you take so long."

"We don't have transport," Kirk explained. "If you help us, we will be grateful. Our food supply is running low. And we still need to cross the river."

There were some whispers and elbow-nudges. The Cananri turned back to them, a smile on his face.

"We will take you to our village, where you may eat and rest. Welcome, strangers, to our land. I am Nallont."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Nallont," Kirk said. McCoy inclined his head in greeting.

Nallont waved them off. "We are sorry you got caught in one of our traps. They are meant for _elkani_, which are much heavier than either of you. However, together, you appear to have set it off."

Kirk shifted. "Sorry about that."

"Do not be. In fact, you are very lucky. Our tribe is across the river, and we do not often hunt on this side. You are fortunate we were near enough to hear you."

Kirk glanced at McCoy. McCoy kept his face perfectly schooled. "Yes, it is fortunate you heard us."

Nallont made a motion with his hand. "Come, then."

The group walked on through the forest. Soon, the foliage cleared and they were standing on a riverbank. The water was wide, but calm. Canoe-like boats lined the shore. They piled into them and Kirk and McCoy sat in the middle of one as Cananri began rowing out across. The ride was silent and peaceful. McCoy trailed a hand in the water a little bit. Kirk marveled at the design of the boats.

When they bumped against the opposite bank everyone disembarked. The Cananri navigated through more of the forest before coming across a wide, cleared area on a small hill. Huts donned the space and several other Cananri walked about, tending to their work.

Nallont faced them and smiled broadly. "Strangers," he said. "Welcome to the Ankat Tribe."

* * *

As the sun sank and sky darkened, fires were lit all around the village. In the middle, several Ankat were preparing a large bonfire. Activities had retreated mainly indoors, and Kirk and McCoy were informed that they were preparing for the greeting ceremony.

"We rarely get strangers," Nallont had said. "So it is always special when someone ventures down into our canyon."

Kirk and McCoy, for their parts, could want for nothing. The Ankat had provided them with fresh clothes to replace their uniforms. They had been so ripped and caked with grit that in some places it was hard to tell what color lay underneath. Now, they wore durable trousers and vests. McCoy wasn't so sure how their exposed arms would hold up in the sun once they were back on the plains, but it was certainly better than nothing.

Now, they sat cross-legged before the bonfire, quietly eating an assortment of fruits, meats, and nuts presented before them. The Ankat also ate from the same platters, and happily chatted with them. They had to answer all questions together, as there was only one universal translator.

"This food is delicious," McCoy complimented. He was still a bit wary of the fruit, but didn't see any hallucinogenic berries.

"I'm glad you like it," one woman, Aylia, said. "It is not often we have visitors; we are happy to give."

Kirk enjoyed the feel of a full belly for the first time in days. He watched where several elk-like creatures were tied to a post and drinking from a trough. He wondered if they were used like horses.

The feast wound down and Kirk was feeling mildly sleepy. He was about to ask if there was some place to sleep when the Ankat suddenly quieted. The platters of food were taken away and everyone seemed to be waiting for something. Soon there was a faint noise. Kirk scooted away from McCoy to try and see where it was coming from. He soon had his answer.

Several Ankat waltzed into the bonfire area. They moved alternating between slow and fast; some jumping, others gliding. The reason for the odd movement and gestures was that they were in elaborate costumes.

Costumes that were adorned in bells.

Small bells and larger bells lined the outfits across the arms, legs and torso. Depending on how the person moved, certain ones would clink and chime. Combined with several others wearing a variety of bells, the overall effect was musically mesmerizing.

Kirk watched, entranced, as the dancers continued. The music wasn't what he was used to, but was captivating nonetheless. He glanced over to where Bones was sitting. The doctor watched the spectacle in fascination. The firelight danced across his face and for a moment Kirk thought he looked like a wild man. The animal hide clothes, growing beard; only the soft blue eyes off-set it. Kirk suddenly realized that he looked much the same. He reached up and stroked his stubble, wondering when he would get the chance to shave again.

The dance continued for a little over an hour. When McCoy shook out of his daze he noticed that everyone was talking with each other and socializing. Turning, he spotted Kirk chatting with a young woman. They seemed deep into the conversation, so he figured he wouldn't ask for the universal translator. The Ankat woman was looking at Jim with large doe eyes. He chuckled to himself. He could only imagine what Jim was like to her eyes. A strange, rough, golden-haired man showing up and talking with her. He smiled and sipped some water. Ah, young love.

He helped with the cleanup a little bit, as it didn't require much talking. Someone eventually tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and Kirk pressed the universal translator into his palm. "I've had it for a while," he whispered.

McCoy wasn't fooled. He raised an eyebrow and said slyly "Going to get to know that gal better?"

Kirk's face seemed to turn red in the firelight. "It's been a stressful few days, Bones."

McCoy chuckled and rolled his eyes. "So long as you don't end up married," he said.

Kirk grinned sheepishly. "Alright." He turned around and strode back to where the Ankat woman was waiting. She took his arm and smiled happily. They disappeared into a hut.

McCoy used the translator to ask if there was a place he could sleep. Nallont happily directed him to a small hut with several furs inside.

"It is used in rotation with hunting parties," Nallont explained. "And is empty for tonight. You and your companion may sleep in peace."

"Thank you," McCoy said, not pointing out that Kirk would probably spend the whole night somewhere else. "You are very kind."

Nallont bowed his head. "It is our pleasure. We are not like others. We embrace strangers and travel."

McCoy tilted his head at the information. It was an odd thing to say. He filed it away for further consideration.

The Ankat outside also retired to their homes, and McCoy stretched out on the furs. The hut was warm, dark, and quiet. With a start he realized he wouldn't have to keep watch; there was an entire village ready to do that. He sighed, hoping that Kirk would stay out of trouble wherever he was. He didn't know the Ankat rules for doing such… activities.

Exhausted, he rolled over and went straight to sleep.

* * *

**Thank you mtcbones, and Domina Temporis for reviewing! I'm glad you liked chapter 9; I went out on a limb and wasn't sure how it turned out. Thanks for the support!**

**Poor boys; I've been throwing everything from cliffs, to abandoned outposts, to wild hyenas, to more cliffs, snakes, and druggie-berries at them. They deserve a break. McCoy's 'I didn't say that!' can be found in 'The Corbomite Maneuver' and 'This Side of Paradise'. Also, I had to at least mention a little something about Kirk's uh, interests. They're going to be great friends; McCoy ought to know what he's getting into. ;)**

**Thanks for reading! And please review, y'all! They really help keep me on track.**


	12. Eleven

**Chapter 11**

McCoy awoke with a start and for a moment couldn't remember where he was. Then the events of the last several days caught up with him. He groaned and rolled over. That's right. He was in a native village with Kirk.

Where was Kirk, anyway? Looking at the surrounding furs he deduced that the lieutenant had never stopped by during the night. He shook his head. It was weird to remember that Kirk was only a lieutenant. He acted like so much more.

Seeing light creeping through the edges of the hut's flap, he pushed himself up and stepped outside. The village was up and taking care of the morning business. Wandering further, McCoy noticed Kirk talking with Nallont. He was too far away to hear anything, but he saw Jim smile and shake hands. McCoy frowned, thinking something was weird about the situation. He patted himself over, then ran back and checked the hut. The universal translator was gone. So Kirk _had_ been in the hut.

"Hey, Bones!" Kirk called cheerfully as he reemerged. "I've got some good news for us."

"What's that?"

Kirk reached him and stopped. "The Ankat are willing to loan us some of their elk-creatures to reach the other side of the canyon," he said. "They'll ride with us, of course, to bring them back once we disembark to climb the cliffs, but it cuts a day's journey in half."

McCoy stared. "That's great news," he said. "When do we leave?"

"Right after breakfast."

Breakfast consisted of several more fruits and nuts. To their surprise and comfort, the Ankat were more than happy to provide them with food for the rest of their journey. While they only had a couple MRE's left, the native sustenance was invaluable.

The elk were more interesting. Shaped differently than a horse, and with the added complication of antlers, riding them was a strange experience to say the least. McCoy mounted his without too much difficulty, and mimicked the Ankat riders' movements to control the animal. Kirk had a little trouble, but learned quickly.

They took off at a fast pace. The elk were very agile and moved through the forest with ease. The riders flanked Kirk and McCoy, essentially escorting them. Branches whipped by and leaves were a blur. McCoy found that it was much more pleasant than walking.

The group rode on, but it was still a while before they reached the cliff-face. And yet, the sun was only reaching the middle of the sky; it had been _much_ faster than walking.

"Thank you," Kirk said to Nallont as he slid off his mount. McCoy also clambered down and passed the elk off to another rider, who roped it expertly.

"Our pleasure to help," Nallont said warmly. He eyed the cliffs. "Though there is not much we have in terms of climbing the rocks."

"Well, it's not our first go with these," Kirk gave a wan smile. "We'll manage somehow."

Nallont nodded gravely. "Indeed." He hesitated, and then trotted further down the cliff wall and stopped. He pointed. "There was once an old path here. It hasn't been used in many ages. Doubtless parts are crumbling and treacherous, but it may help guide you up to the top."

McCoy inclined his head. "Thank you for the information."

Nallont smiled. "You are welcome." He turned his elk and joined the other Ankat riders. "We must return. Good luck on your journey. And should you return," his eyes twinkled. "You will no longer be strangers."

They bade farewell and the Ankat rode off. As the sound of hooves vanished in the trees, Kirk and McCoy turned to face the canyon side yet again.

"Well," Kirk said, bracing himself. "At least this is the last time we should have to do this."

"Agreed," McCoy pronounced. His arms and legs were already aching at the thought of another climb. He rubbed his hands together and noticed how rough they had gotten- doubtless the hard living.

"We should try Nallont's path," Kirk said, walking over to the spot. "It's something; maybe we can salvage it."

They started up. It couldn't exactly be called a path. It was more a set of strategic handholds. As they climbed further they realized an important thing.

For though the handholds were easy to reach and were firm, the path was very winding.

It zigzagged all across the canyon wall. Instead of going straight up, as they had hoped, they meandered every which-way. Though safer, it certainly wasn't faster.

McCoy wiped some more sweat from his brow. The sun seemed the hottest yet. He knew Diodorus was warmer than Earth, but it hadn't occurred to him how unlucky they were to venture on a week-long trek in the middle of summer. He twisted around to overlook the canyon and squinted. Then he looked back at their Ankat apparel and exposed arms. They were definitely going to get sunburnt.

He craned his head up to look at Kirk. He was still going, determinedly reaching for the next hold and moving up the canyon wall. He was also in his prime, so the physical exertion was a bit easier. McCoy, though fit and still going strong, recognized that he had just passed the peak of his life and was beginning the downhill journey. He gritted his teeth. Well, he wasn't old yet. He hoisted himself up some more, shifting his pack to rest more comfortably on his shoulders.

He tried to think of other things to keep his mind off of the exhausting journey and heat. McCoy ran through medical techniques, medicines, useful properties they had found in the plants and soil during his short time at Station 6. He nearly missed a handhold and gripped the rock. Okay, best to pay at least a _little_ attention at the task at hand.

McCoy looked back at Kirk. He was sweating just as bad as he was, if not worse. McCoy was used to the heat, having already been stationed on Diodorus for a period of time and grown up in Georgia. The trip had given him a healthy tan, but today, he figured, with the sun beating down as hot as it was, his skin wouldn't hold out. But he was concerned for Kirk. The Iowa man already had a reddened neck, and the shoulders were sure to go. McCoy decided that if Kirk looked like he was about to fall off, he would call the break. Until then, he was determined to keep up with him.

It was another hour before they found a ledge wide enough for the two of them. They collapsed on it, their legs hanging off the edge and breathing hard. McCoy fumbled for his water and drank, noticing that Kirk did the same.

"I don't think… it's ever been this hot," Kirk panted, wiping his brow.

"Well," McCoy said tiredly. "We are climbing in the afternoon. And considering how exposed we are on the cliffs we'll feel the brunt of the heat." He sighed and looked up the cliff. The trail continued farther.

"If you start feeling dizzy," he said, dragging his attention back to Kirk. "Or seeing black spots, stop an' let me know." He drank some water. "I don't want you passing out and falling off when we've come so far."

"Okay," Kirk gulped. He rubbed his arms. "Do you have anything for sunburn?"

McCoy grimly smiled. "Afraid not. We'll just have to tough it out."

Kirk groaned. "I wish not."

"C'mon, Jim," McCoy said in an attempt to rally morale. "A little suffering is good for the soul."

"But terrible on the body," Kirk muttered. He sighed. "Alright. Better get moving again, if we want to beat the darkness."

"Have some more water first," McCoy insisted. "This is the hottest day we've traveled in yet. Stay hydrated."

"Why couldn't you say that last time?" Kirk asked, taking a drink.

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "For one thing, there was a waterfall with us last time. This time, we're on our own."

"With a universal translator, some food and water, and a medkit," Kirk said. "A destroyed compass, a broken tricorder, no phasers, no communicators, two measly blankets…" at that Kirk took his out and wrapped it around his head. McCoy did the same. "I suppose it could be worse," Kirk sighed.

"But there are a whole lot of ways it could be better," McCoy murmured.

Kirk straightened. "Well, ruminating on what we could have and don't have won't do us any good." He stood up. "Let's get going."

McCoy trudged to his feet and followed Kirk as they resumed the arduous climb. The sun beat down mercilessly. They found their limbs shaking under the heat and strength needed to scale the next yard, the next foot, the next _inch_. They were tired. They were hungry. It seemed like the air was thinner because they were breathing so hard. McCoy wavered, forcing himself to grip the next hold and climb the next step. Kirk leaned against the cliff, head bowed as he fought a small wave of dizziness. He felt nauseous. But he couldn't afford any of those symptoms, so he brushed them aside and shouldered on.

For both of them, anything other than the next hold was blurred. It was unimportant. They didn't care about the steep drop below them, or the great distance before them. They didn't care about the birds circling nearby; curious, waiting. They didn't care about the heat or their thirst or their aching muscles because those were constants. All that mattered was the next hold, the next step.

The sun dipped low, but the heat remained. It seemed to radiate off of their own burnt skin. Kirk gripped the scrub and hauled himself up, wondering where the next grip was. Had they lost the trail? He crawled further, gripping the scrub in numb fingers. McCoy followed behind him, dragging himself across the plain.

Plain?

He was dizzy, tired, nauseous, and had a headache, but Kirk was dimly aware that he wasn't vertical against a cliff face, but horizontal against the plain. The scrub he was gripping was grass. He released it and flexed his fingers, which cringed.

Relieved and exhausted, they crawled farther away from the edge before collapsing in the grass, letting weariness consume them for the night.

* * *

**Howdy, everyone! Finally got the cliffs outta the way. It's done! Well, they're out of the canyon, anyways, but it's not over yet! I've still got at least one more major event to throw at them, so stay tuned for it! I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter.**

**Also, thank you GSFan01, mtcbones, and Poet-Tree-Lines for reviewing! I'm so happy y'all are enjoying this.**

**This chapter I managed to throw in McCoy's line 'A little suffering is good for the soul'. Kirk mentioned in The Corbomite Maneuver that Bones said that a lot. Surprise! I found an opportunity to include it. Thanks for reading this chapter, and please review! I'm hoping to get some more action rolling after this instead of walk, climb, walk some more, climb. Thanks, guys!**


	13. Twelve

**Chapter 12**

Both being so tired, neither of them thought to keep watch that night. They dropped off to sleep and before Kirk knew it he was snapping awake in the pre-dawn air.

He groaned and sat up. McCoy was still passed out nearby. Kirk tried to get his brain working and calculating if either of them had even bothered to start a fire. Nope.

He sighed and settled on his back. He still felt tired. As long as he was awake, though, he could keep an eye out for signs of possible trouble.

Kirk watched the stars overhead. They were dim, as light was slowly washing over Diodorus, but it was dark enough that he could still map out strange constellations. A thought occurred to him. He quickly shifted around to his position on the last night on the plains before they entered the canyon, and traced the stars. That night he had been fiddling with the magnetic compass while Bones took up watch…

He looked back over at McCoy, checking if he was alright. Still sound asleep, Kirk noticed some sunburn. He winced and rubbed his own arms. It hurt to move. Kirk turned back towards McCoy.

What would happen once they reached Outpost 5? Would they go on with their different lives; Kirk to the _Republic_ and McCoy to another outpost? It hardly seemed fair for them to survive so much together only to say 'well, see you around maybe, good-bye!' They had grown dependent on each other. McCoy tended to their health and Kirk took the lead to get them to safety. It simply worked. He suddenly found the need to pace, but decided he would spare his legs further walking until later.

Kirk picked at the grass, thinking numbly. There was a special kind of kinship that came with surviving. Could it simply go away? He seriously doubted it. Nevertheless, he felt a friend in McCoy. The man didn't press areas that were off-limits, but pursued the topics that were important. He seemed to respect privacy. Kirk was grateful for that. He was also unassuming, saying things that needed to be said and listening to reason. There was a healthy amount of common sense in there; Kirk figured that McCoy gave pretty good advice to people.

Shaking out of his musings as it grew lighter, Kirk dragged himself to his feet and made a small fire to start cooking breakfast. He opened the Ankat provisions and the last of the MRE's. Considering that, with a bit of luck, they would reach Outpost 5 today, he thought they deserved a hearty breakfast.

It was almost done when McCoy roused from his sleep. He squinted at the sun rising over the horizon, and promptly scrambled awake. He turned to see Kirk sitting by the fire, smiling.

"What in the-?" His sleepy brain caught up to his senses. "You let me sleep in?"

"You looked like you needed it," Kirk answered honestly.

"Well, so do you!" the doctor griped. "How long have you been up?"

Kirk shrugged. "Maybe an hour?"

McCoy stared at him. "And you didn't think to wake me?"

"Look, we were both tired, I woke up on my own, but I didn't see any reason to get you up as well. I only now made breakfast and a fire; besides, neither of us took watch last night."

McCoy grumbled, but sat down by the fire. "Well, at least you got a full night," he said. He yawned and retrieved a piece of fruit.

They ate breakfast in silence, each not wanting to address the elephant in the room just yet. Finally, McCoy cleared his throat. "So, now our main problem is finding the correct direction towards Station 5."

Kirk nodded and stood up. He walked away from the fire, and then turned around. "I'm pretty sure it's this way, if our last position on the plains is anything to go by."

"Oh?" McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Do you remember that we didn't exactly travel in a straight line? Plus those Ankat pulled us a bit off course." He pointed a few degrees south than Kirk's position. "If my memory for traveling over there holds, it's more that way."

"Bones, that would put it dead west of the other station. We calculated that it wasn't exactly west of Outpost 5, but a bit further northwest."

"I know that," McCoy replied, standing up. "Do you remember that the sun rises in the north, and not the east? Besides, we've already traveled farther northwest than needed; we need to start drifting back on course."

"No, if we go straight from the canyon we'll hit it dead-on," Kirk said, getting slightly irritated.

"Jim, may I remind you that I've crossed the distance in a skimmer more often than you have?" McCoy said, crossing his arms and a scowl forming on his face. "I know the way. We need to go further south."

"Doctor, that's not what we calculated with the map."

"The map was half singed and warped! We got an _estimation_ from it; in reality the station's farther south!"

"But the magnetic compass pinpointed its location!"

"We don't _have_ the compass anymore, genius!"

"Look, never mind that, I'm saying that the outpost is still _this way_. And this is the way we are taking, Doctor!"

"Are you serious? Do you want to wander around the plains until our supplies run out? That's a fine way to get us killed."

"Look, it's my duty to get us both safely to Outpost 5 in one piece-"

"Your _duty_?" McCoy's eyes widened. "Lieutenant, I don't know who you think is running the show here, but it's always been _my_ observation that we took care of _each other_. Rank and who should lead who is sort of left at the door when both are going mad from fermented berries." His voice dropped to a dangerous level. "So don't start trying to pull any 'I'm in charge and responsible for the doctor' shit on me, because we've _both_ been through the exact same circumstances on this planet and handled it like partners; _not_ soldiers!"

Kirk opened his mouth and closed it. McCoy's glare was just as formidable as his tongue. The doctor abruptly turned and started packing his gear. Kirk tried to digest the tirade and make sense of it. Had he misinterpreted something? He had to admit, regulations had pretty much been tossed to the wind throughout the entire journey. Why start arguing about duty and responsibility now?

"Look, Bones," he tried, stepping towards the camp. McCoy just continued packing. He sighed.

"We've stuck together this far. Would you really want to split up now?"

McCoy stood and looked at him. "I would prefer not. But why are you so set on going that way? I've got my memories and a dozen other things to back me up when I say we should head closer south. Why aren't you listening to that?"

So that was it. "I hear you," Kirk said. "But here's why I feel that may be off. The last night we had the compass, as I was fiddling with it before going to sleep, I lined up the direction we needed with the stars. This morning, when I woke up, it was still dark enough to see the stars, and I simply found the direction I had correlated from that night with the compass to point where the station is." He quieted. "And it's that way."

Neither man spoke for what seemed like a long time. Kirk kept his mouth shut, determined to see McCoy's response first. After an eternity, the doctor sighed.

"I wish you had said that sooner."

Kirk smiled mournfully. "Well, you caught me off guard with the 'duty' comments, and they raised some pretty good points." He straightened. "I'm sorry."

McCoy waved a hand. "It's okay, Jim," he said. "Doubtless, you're right; in normal situations. For me, though, respect doesn't come with a rank. There are idiot admirals, and brilliant ensigns." He gave a small grin. "I think I can handle a determined lieutenant."

"Right," Kirk knelt and gathered his gear as well. McCoy destroyed the fire.

"So which way are we going?" Kirk asked.

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "You calculated it, star-boy," he said. "I suppose we'll try your way, Jim."

Kirk nodded. "Okay then." They set off through the plains, walking side by side.

It was about noon when they determined that those popping noises they'd been hearing were explosions.

* * *

**I'm back and still kicking, y'all! Sorry it's been a while since I updated; school started and then had that glitch thingy going on so I decided to wait until it was fixed before writing this chapter. Thank you jdpenny121, GSFan01, Poet-Tree-Lines, and mtcbones for reviewing! Happy to warm y'all up this cold winter!**

**Okay, so I figured it was about time they butt heads over something. To me, Kirk and McCoy are pretty equal. In the series, the captain and CMO can override each other, so their authority is roughly the same, and both can fend for themselves even though they rely on each other a lot. McCoy doesn't cherish rank for rank's sake (his borderline insubordination throughout the series can show that), so I figure he'll respect a _person_ rather than a position. Kirk's not a captain and so he can't really order people around because of it just yet, and I don't know what McCoy's rank right now is (I'm hesitant to make something up). Ergo, this is like McCoy's early warning to Kirk about 'don't pull any authority on me' which is seen in the series. He'll fight Kirk in terms of authority and power, like with medical matters (he states this in The Corbomite Maneuver, and threatens it in Obsession and Turnabout Intruder). **

**Despite this, I do want to show that in the end it is Kirk's decision they follow. He is a natural-born leader, and that shines through his very persona regardless of rank.**

**Well, now that that little spat is over and done with, it's time to figure out the next mystery! What could be going on at Station 5? Will they get rescued? Please review!**


	14. Thirteen

**Chapter 13**

"Jim! What in blazes is going on here?"

"I wish I knew!" Kirk shouted back over the noise. "I thought this outpost didn't have any problems!"

"It didn't!" McCoy yelled. There was a whistling sound nearby and both men crouched to avoid the unseen missile. "At least, till now!"

Kirk's direction had been mostly correct- though they were off by about several hundred yards. They could barely make out Station 5 in the distance among fresh smoke and dust torn up from the catapults.

The catapults that they were much too close to.

Topping the large ridge, they had come out onto a fresh battlefield, unfortunately on the wrong side. They could make out the gleaming support structures of the massive weapons vaulting objects high into the air. Dozens of Cananri ran about, tending them. Shouts and the noise of explosions littered the landscape, assaulting any attempted conversation.

"We should probably get to the station!" McCoy shouted, squinting through the tossed-up and drifting dust.

"You want to cross through that?" Kirk pointed out. Walking between the outpost and catapults was suicide.

"No!" They crouched lower when a catapult suddenly launched. "But maybe we can loop around-"

"Bones!" Kirk called. "Do you realize how close we are to the Vertod?"

"Of course I do! That's why we want to get out of here!"

Kirk ignored him, growing excited. "Maybe we can figure out why they're attacking all of a sudden! We're in the perfect position to do that."

"We're also in a perfect position to get killed!"

There was a massive boom which underscored McCoy's words. The ground shook violently even though the explosion took place closer to the outpost.

"Seriously, Bones," Kirk lobbied. "All we have to do is get close enough to listen to what they're saying-"

"Hold it!"

It took a moment for the two of them to realize that the words had come from the universal translator. Another moment later they realized that the person who spoke them was standing on the top of the ridge they were hiding beneath. And that he was not alone.

"Stand up!"

Hands out in mild surrender, McCoy and Kirk slowly rose. There was another explosion and they winced. The Cananri motioned for some of his team to search them.

"You wanted to find a way to get close to them?" McCoy whispered to Kirk. "You just found it."

The Vertod dumped out their packs and seemed surprised to find nothing but food and blankets. The leader narrowed his eyes and took in their attire. He fingered the universal translator, guessing its use, and dropped it to the ground. He pointed at McCoy's gear. "What is that?" he demanded in English.

"This?" McCoy lifted the tricorder. "Is broken." He unslung it and tossed it on the ground.

"And that?" He jabbed the doctor's black bag.

"First aid. My medkit. I'm a doctor."

"A doctor?" the Cananri explained, almost unbelieving. He turned to Kirk. "And who are you?"

There was a warning tone to it. Kirk wasn't sure if he should answer with the truth. Before he could speak, McCoy stepped in. "My intern. We were studying medicinal properties of plants in the canyon when our home station was destroyed. A tribe supplied us with help, and we're trying to reach the next station." He paused.

"Why are you attacking the outposts?" Kirk asked bluntly. He had on his 'innocent-face'. After all, the Cananri now believed him to be a young medical intern. It was just a simple question; no ulterior motive behind it.

The leader still didn't seem fit to answer it. "That is Vertod business," he said sternly. He turned and barked some orders. The Cananri surrounded Kirk and McCoy and brandished weapons at them. "March," the leader ordered.

They were walked down from the battlefield, towards the Vertod's side. Their packs, translator, and tricorder were all left behind by the ridge. All they had left was McCoy's kit, probably because the Cananri thought it was harmless. That, or they thought Kirk and McCoy would need to make use of it. Considering how burnt, dirty, and ragged they were, the Cananri might figure they also had injuries from their trek.

Kirk catalogued all of this. They passed near some ranks of massive catapults, larger than ever developed on Earth. He took a moment to admire the engineering. A prod in the back reminded him to keep walking.

They walked past the front line of weapons and other flanks before reaching various encampments. A large, temporary concrete shelter was in the center, and it was there that Kirk and McCoy were led.

The absence of heat was the first thing they noticed. Despite any evidence of ventilation, the building was cool. The two were brought into a large room filled with what looked to be tactical displays. Kirk eyed several before they were hastily minimized.

"What is this?" a Cananri demanded. He seemed to be the head authority if his uniform was anything to go by.

"Terrans found on the plains," the troop leader reported. "Medical personnel. They claim they were in the canyon when we rectified the sixth station. They say they were attempting to reach the other outpost."

The base leader walked towards them. He took in their grubby appearance. "Do you think this is true?" he asked the other Cananri, not taking his eyes off of Kirk and McCoy.

"They clearly have traveled for several days. And they wear Ankat attire; supporting that they were with a tribe who helped them."

"Hm." The man continued to evaluate them. The troop leader spoke up again.

"What should we do with them?"

"I'll have to consult with Command," the base leader said. "Meanwhile, put them in the cell. We'll figure it out after we're done vanquishing the second station."

Without time to think, Kirk and McCoy were ushered into a small, nearby cell. It seemed to be meant for disciplining soldiers, or holding impromptu prisoners (like now). The barred door clanged shut behind them and there was the sound of a key turning in the lock.

"Well, this is dandy," McCoy groaned, crossing to a wall. "I almost feel like the universe is laughing at us; we come so far only to be thrown in jail."

"I wish you'd be more optimistic," Kirk commented. He was examining the door.

"What is there to be optimistic about? I don't see much in ways out of this."

"For now, no, but I think we have learned several things useful."

McCoy looked at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Did you notice how the whole conversation in here was in English?" Kirk asked. He traced a hand along the hinges, testing their strength.

"I did. Probably didn't want us to interrupt them all the time asking what was going on."

"You may be right on that, Doctor, but I'm also curious about the terms they used. They 'rectified' Outpost 6 and are 'vanquishing' Outpost 5."

"Justified war," McCoy said dryly.

Kirk turned to face him. "What if it's more than that? Bones, you've had dealing before with the Vertod. What are they like?"

McCoy frowned. "We didn't have many dealings, and I was rarely a part of them. They kept to themselves, mostly. Didn't bother us and we didn't bother them."

"Would you say they're very private?"

McCoy hesitated, but shook his head. "Not really. They'll give you information. But I got the feeling they didn't like us over at Station 6."

"The station that was the last formed, only a few months ago."

"That's right." McCoy had a suspicion, but asked anyway. "Where are you going with this?"

Kirk started pacing the small confines of the cell, his voice speeding up and trailing as his thought process worked. "What if… the Cananri, the Vertod, _aren't_ being hostile? What if they actually have something against Starfleet using their land?"

"If they did, Jim, we would have heard about it a long time ago," McCoy replied dryly.

"I don't mean Diodorus," Kirk explained. "Diodorus is like Earth; with different countries and territories. We wouldn't mind if aliens wanted to establish outposts and study Antarctica, would we? We'd still chat with them, and leave them to their business. But if they tried to hone in on a country? There would be more problems."

"Not enough to go to war," McCoy pointed out, but he was catching on. "But that's just humans. These are Cananri. Jim, in the Ankat village Nallont told me that they were not like the others, that they 'embraced strangers and travel'. The Ankat _accepted_ us on their land, into their village-"

"-and that's what makes them different!" Kirk said excitedly. He whirled. "Bones, the Vertod aren't hostile. They're _territorial_. I'll bet that Outpost 6 was seen as a threat to their nation."

"And so for that, they destroyed it." McCoy was grim, but the hypothesis was very sensible. "If they are highly territorial, then an overreaction like war would make sense. But Station 5?"

"Do you remember the tactical maps in the room?" Kirk asked. McCoy did, but had only glimpsed them. "I remember a large, shaded region. From what I could tell, Outpost 5 was just beyond that. Perhaps it was close to the Vertod's country, but not close enough for them to overly worry. However, when Outpost 6 was created, much closer to their border, suddenly it made sense to attack the other possible threat as well."

"And we have perfect timing to get caught in the middle." McCoy stretched. "This could really help negotiations, Jim. The problem is, how are we going to get out of here to tell people?"

"I'm still working on that." Kirk gripped the bars on the door's window and hoisted himself a bit off the ground to peer out of it. Unable to maintain the position, he dropped back down. "I don't see anyone guarding us. However, they'll have to send someone eventually to check up on us, give us food."

"By that time, Station 5 might be destroyed," McCoy mentioned. "Along with our chance of rescue."

"Hm, you're right." Kirk resumed pacing the cell. "If we could create a disturbance… lure a guard in here… we might be able to jump him."

McCoy's face suddenly lit up. Kirk noticed it and stopped. "What? Have you got an idea?"

"Just something to go along with your's," McCoy said. "But it might make getting out of here a lot easier."

* * *

Jeffoire had been in the Vertod military for only a short time. As such, he was given all the mundane duties of someone of low rank. For him, it meant that he had to sit in a shelter and do nothing but 'guard' it while everyone else fought the invasion threat. Vertod had no trouble trading with the Federation. But illegally encroaching upon its land was going too far.

He spun around in the chair, bored. The troop and commander had left earlier to survey the battlefield. Normally they could leave the shelter unguarded because an entire Vertod camp surrounded it, but this time they took precautions since there were two Terrans being held inside. Jeffoire still didn't see the point of his duties. It wasn't like the Terrans could do anything, locked away as they were.

Just as his thought started to wander from the men, a ruckus emerged from inside the cell. "Oh-shit-no, blast it, hey! We need help! Someone!? Come quick! Blast it-"

Jeffoire flew out of his chair and ran to the cell. He kept a hand on his keys and peered through the window. He couldn't see the floor, but one Terran seemed crouched over another. "What is it?" he called.

The crouching Terran turned and glared at him, blue eyes flashing. "He's having a recurring reaction to some berries he ate while in the canyon. I need help getting to calm his system! Is there a doctor nearby?"

Jeffoire was hesitant. "Aren't you a doctor?" he asked.

"Of course I am! But I'm all out of the antibiotic I need. I need more, and I need another set of hands to keep applying pressure under his ribcage!" Underscoring his angry words was a loud moan. Jeffoire jumped and opened the cage door, rushing in. The younger man was on the ground, clutching his midriff. The doctor was trying to keep him still, fiddling around the man's abdomen.

"What do you need?" Jeffoire asked breathlessly. He realized that the cell door was still open. "Stand over there," he pointed. "I'll hold the pressure."

McCoy moved so that he was next to Kirk's head. Jeffoire bent down, but the moment of distraction was enough. Jeffoire felt a cool hypospray against his shoulder and a moment later several cc's of snake venom was pumped into his system.

Kirk instantly stopped moaning and jumped up as the Cananri slumped over. "Will he be alright?" he asked, knowing it was hard for a doctor to harm someone in such a way.

"It only causes paralysis," McCoy replied, putting away his hypo of venom. "From what I gathered he won't be able to move for the next several hours."

"Well, in that case, let's make our exit." Kirk walked out of the cell when suddenly the entire building shook. The ground hummed and vibrated violently below them, and the hairs on both men's bodies rose.

"What was that?" McCoy exclaimed. He looked wide-eyed around the shaken shelter.

Kirk, however, was familiar with the signs. On any other occasion, it would have been a relief. However, this time, they were caught on the wrong side.

"Starfleet's fighting back."

* * *

**I'm back! Sorry for the wait, everybody. This semester is packed and y'all have been keeping me busy with 'Regulations be Damned'. But I've finally gotten this chapter written! Special thanks to Guest, mtcbones, and Kimberleah for reviewing the last chapter! I've finally tied together some of my plot elements in this one. Knew that venom from chapter 8. Seven (I shall never create a Prologue like that again; it makes the chapters too confusing) would come in handy. I made up some general medical stuff concerning their ploy; truthfully I wouldn't know why someone would need to keep pressure on an area when someone's having an allergic reaction. I'm not a doctor.**

**Canon-wise, I tried to capture Kirk's speech in here. A lot of people say that he pauses in weird places and whatnot, but I have a hard time seeing that. For me, when he talks it's like I'm looking at his thought process. He trails off as he figures things out, and speeds up when he's on to something, or has a good idea. I can track how he arrives at his decisions. Just a weird thing I like about Kirk. And then there's McCoy being McCoy pointing out reminders to Kirk as he forms said decisions. Rightful places forming. Yay!**

**Sorry if I'm rambling. I love those two together. They're my favorites. But I'll stop talking now. Still more chapters to come, so please review!**


	15. Fourteen

**Chapter 14**

"Shit!"

Kirk had quickly figured that McCoy had a knack for speaking his and everyone else's mind. Right now, it seemed that their entire situation was easily summed up in that one word.

The building vibrated again as they ran outside. The Vertod were in complete disarray, running everywhere, and so no one seemed to notice their escape. There was a flash of light from behind them throwing long shadows about. The phasers swept across a great expanse of land before switching off.

"They're still using the catapults!" McCoy shouted over the cacophony. "And we've got laser beams! How do you expect us to get to the other station, provided that it still exists?"

Kirk was looking everywhere. Something, anything they could use…

There.

"Bones!" he called, running. "Remember how Outpost 6's skimmers were gone?"

Up ahead were three or four sleek hovercraft. The light from Siculus bounced off of their silver shine, though the occasional phaser lit them up blue if it got close enough.

Kirk wrenched open the door and McCoy dove in after him. They struggled to sit up and move around each other in the small space. Kirk found himself in the driver's seat with McCoy on the other side.

"What's the starting sequence?" Kirk asked frantically.

"5824-C, if it's from our station." McCoy looked out the window.

Kirk punched in the code. The skimmer revved to life and he gripped the hand controls.

"So what's your plan, just drive across the battlefield?" McCoy demanded.

"Pretty much," Kirk replied. He continued flipping switches, getting a feel for the craft.

"Jim," McCoy said, a hint of nervousness in his tone. "You'd better get us moving."

"I'm trying, hang on-"

"Jim, _Starfleet phasers_ are coming!"

Sure enough, as he spoke a blue glow washed out the vehicle. The massive phaser beams ripped across the landscape, heading straight for them.

"One sec-"

"Jim, punch it!"

Kirk gripped the accelerator and they shot off away from the beams. The skimmer zoomed wildly across the Vertod territory. McCoy gripped the door handle so hard his knuckles turned white. "For God's sake, don't hit anybody!"

"I'm not trying to!" Kirk whipped the skimmer around a group of Cananri and found that they were headed straight towards a tight cluster of makeshift buildings.

"Where's the height lever on this thing!?" he shouted.

"I don't know!"

"_Damn-!_" Kirk's curse was cut off as he banked the skimmer sharply, shooting between two buildings. They were practically on their side as they whisked through. The moment they shot out the skimmer fell back level, reminding both that they didn't have seatbelts on.

"Watch out for the catapults!" McCoy shouted.

"I see them, Bones! Stop being a backseat driver!"

The massive war structures were up ahead. They were facing away from them, but on the other side was the battlefield. Some Cananri had turned around, spotted them, and were pointing. Kirk didn't like the look of that. He pressed harder on the accelerator, clenching his hand.

They had to make it.

Suddenly the entire landscape lit up blue. Twin phaser beams trailed from the sky across a row of catapults in front of them. They ripped through the support structures and seared off buckets and payloads. The phasers broke off and let their destruction rain down.

Literally.

Giant beams that were originally the arms of the catapults started falling. Payloads ready to be launched instead ruptured, exploding and causing more damage. Kirk drove the skimmer closer to the mess, weaving around flames and debris as best we could. There was an opening between two catapults.

They had to make it.

Kirk dodged a falling projectile and its explosion rocked the skimmer. He kept it on course and sped closer and closer to the opening in mind.

"Jim!"

Kirk spotted what McCoy saw. A flaming beam from one of the catapults was crashing to the ground.

Right in front of them.

At the opening they needed.

Kirk floored the skimmer and they were pushed back into their seats. They raced towards the opening as beam fell; raced to see who would get there first.

They had to make it.

There was a crunching noise outside the craft but both ignored it.

They had to make it.

Kirk gave it all it had and seemed like they were screaming as they passed under the beam. It was so close that even through the craft they could feel the intense heat from the fire. The crunching noise grew louder but a split second later they were out of the confined space.

They made it.

McCoy was swearing next to him, eyes wide. He couldn't agree more. That had been insanely close. Problem was, they couldn't stop and congratulate their good fortune. They were in the battlefield and exposed to Vertod projectiles and Starfleet phasers.

"Bones," Kirk said urgently, speeding across the plains. "Check the back. See if there are any outpost packs or something there we can use."

McCoy crawled over the back of seat and searched the hold. "Junk tossed around; but otherwise nuthin'- hey." He reached and pulled out a mighty phaser rifle. The skimmer jerked sharply and he fell back in his seat. "This what you had in mind?"

Kirk glanced at it. "Perfect." He squinted out the windshield and avoided another post-explosion mound. "I need you to watch out for any projectiles coming from behind us. I'll try to avoid them, but if they get too close, shoot them."

"Are you crazy?!" McCoy exclaimed. "I'm a doctor, not a sniper!"

"You have steady hands a trained eye, Doctor!" Kirk said forcefully. There was a whistling sound and Kirk yanked the skimmer to the right. A massive explosion shook them as the projectile made ground contact.

"Just do it, Bones!"

Muttering some choice words, McCoy rolled down his window and craned his head out. Sitting backward in his seat, he held the phaser rifle ready.

"Incoming, 3 o'clock!" he shouted.

Kirk jerked the craft over.

"OTHER WAY! OTHER WAY!" McCoy screamed at him. Kirk wrenched the controls and the skimmer bucked as an explosion that was much-to-close battered its hull. McCoy ducked his head inside even though the projectile hit near the opposite side of the craft.

"You said it was at 3 o'clock!"

"_My_ 3 o'clock, Jim! I'm facing backward!"

"Well, change it to what it would be for me!" Kirk shouted. "I can't think fast enough to do it by myself, I'm driving!"

"Phasers!"

Kirk saw them. Sweeping over the plains, no doubt looking for any Vertod infantry (not that they existed). The blue energy came closer, accompanied with an ear-splitting whine. Kirk angled the skimmer and tried to stay away from them. McCoy covered his ears as they passed, and Kirk drove over the scorched ground.

Kirk also saw a shadow. A large shadow that was way too close. It could only have gone unnoticed because they were watching the phasers.

"Bones!"

McCoy whipped his head around and spotted a catapult's payload barreling towards them. He aimed the phaser rifle and fired, not letting his finger off the trigger. The skimmer swerved, but his aim stayed true. Mere feet away the object finally vaporized.

"How're we doin'?" he shouted into the skimmer.

"Great, just great," Kirk muttered. "Is that the outpost up ahead?"

McCoy twisted in his awkward position to look forward. "I think so!" He scanned the area behind and above them, shooting another projectile. He ducked back inside and plopped correctly in his seat, still gripping the rifle. McCoy turned to Kirk, who had a set, determined look on his face. "I think we've-"

They never saw the explosion. The particular Vertod projectile responsible had been a delayed-reaction; already embedded in the ground. The skimmer passed close enough and when it blew up the entire back half was caught in the fireball. The straight, speeding hovercraft was suddenly spinning around and around.

Kirk and McCoy couldn't think. Their world became a blur of heat and washing color. The spinning forces kept them pinned almost sideways in their seats.

McCoy glimpsed one thing. It was the outer wall of Station 5.

Then the skimmer impacted.

* * *

Carol Bridges didn't know what to think when her world went to hell.

She'd heard about the attack and evacuation of Station 6, and everyone at Station 5 was on mild alert status. But when the Vertod actually _did_ attack, she, as the communications officer, had called Starfleet.

Immediately following that, she watched as the station scrambled to gather all of the equipment, samples, and findings to beam up to one of the orbiting ships. She ran from to room helping, and nearly fainting every time the building shook from another explosion. At last report, an entire lab was gone. Her world of order and science had dissolved into chaos and destruction. They had to beam out soon before they were also destroyed with the station.

She was frantically stuffing the last of a set of data tapes into her bag when she looked out the large window and saw- of all things- a skimmer speeding crazily towards the station. Her heart lurched and her mind instantly went to thoughts of Vertod invasion.

But then an explosion rocked the skimmer. She watched, frozen at the window as it spun towards the station, completely out of control. Her brain finally kicked into action moments before impact and she dove to the ground as the skimmer slammed through the viewing glass.

Tiny glass shards scattered around her, but Carol ignored them. The skimmer had crashed into the back wall and bounced off, coming to a stop. Carol slowly rose on trembling legs. The hovercraft was a wreck. A small fire burned in its back engine and the windshield had spidery cracks covering it. She couldn't see inside, but the bent and dented skimmer looked very imposing and she was hesitant to investigate.

A door opened and a man stumbled out. He leaned against the door, blue eyes wide. He favored his left leg even though there was blood on his kneecap.

"Help me get Jim!" he said, breathless.

Carol blinked but hurried to the other side of the skimmer, where the man was limping towards. He opened the door and a younger man almost fell out. He was unconscious and Carol noticed a trickle of blood running down the side of his face.

"Get his feet."

Carol did as she was told, and the two of them carried the man, Jim, out of the skimmer. The blue-eyed man looked at her.

"Is this Station 5?"

She blinked. "Yes. Yes it is."

He nodded curtly, but looked relieved. "He needs medical attention. Are you guys beaming out now?"

"Yes, we're evacuating." Remembering the situation, she looked back over her shoulder at the gaping hole in the wall with the battlefield beyond. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dr. McCoy and this is Jim Kirk. We're from Station 6. We've been trying to reach you guys and get rescued. We've traveled for several days."

Carol suddenly noticed that both men weren't in uniform. Instead, it looked like some kind of animal hide attire. Their stubble also backed up their story. These weren't Cananri in disguise trying to infiltrate them.

"We need to hurry to the transporter room. The starship _Hood_ is above, waiting as we beam out." They set across a hall, Jim between them. Carol, though holding his feet, took the front because she knew the way, and she didn't like the look of McCoy's leg. They hobbled as fast as they could past gutted and bombed-out rooms, aiming for the central transporter pad.

Jim gained consciousness briefly. He stirred, leading them to tighten their grips. "Bones?" he called out weakly.

"Easy, Jim, I'm here. We're in Station 5 and we're going to get you help real soon," McCoy soothed, not breaking his pace.

Jim seemed to nod even as his eyes slipped closed. A moment later they were in the transporter room.

"Emergency, Douglas!" Carol yelled breathlessly to a man. "Beam us up! Quick!"

McCoy, for his part, surveyed it all as a dream. The man, Douglas, saw them, but then they were on the transporter pad. He was still holding Jim and his arms ached, but he didn't notice. He felt numb and extremely tired. When the tingling sensation of the transporter started, he thought he could cry with relief.

A moment later, the surface of Diodorus vanished.

* * *

**SO sorry for not updating in a while! I've been really busy and really tired. Also, 'Regulations Be Damned' was demanding my attention, but now that that's out of the way I can return to this. Thank you, Kimberleah and mtcbones for reviewing! There's only one more chapter left! This feels like an action movie! I enjoyed writing it, wish I could watch it instead of read it (it worked in my mind better that way) but I tried to do this chapter justice with all of its action scenes. Managed to include Kirk with some awesome driving skills (thank goodness the skimmer doesn't have wheels, otherwise: A Piece of the Action) sniper!McCoy, and explosions. Lots of explosions.**

**Originally, Station 5 wasn't going to be under attack. However, I figured that, considering their great journey and whatnot, they should find rescue with a Bang! Thus: battle, capture, escape, explosions, skimmer crashes, and more explosions. I think that's a fairly good note for the penultimate chapter to end on. Do you guys agree? Please review, y'all! Reviews keep me going. **


	16. Fifteen

**Chapter 15**

Jim Kirk came to slowly. He groaned as he grew aware of a dull ache coursing throughout his body. He hurt all over.

Gradually, he became aware that he was lying down. Soft beeps, blips, and sounds of other machinery at work entered his consciousness. He breathed in and smelled chemicals and disinfectant. Daring to hope, he opened his eyes.

It was a Sickbay. It was rather quiet, and judging by the design he didn't think it was on the outpost. No, this had to be a starship's Sickbay. So they made it, then? Were they rescued?

A nurse walked in. She smiled when she noticed he was looking at her. "Welcome back," she greeted warmly, softly. "How are you feeling?"

Kirk grunted. "Like I got run over by a truck." He was surprised at how gritty his voice sounded.

The nurse chuckled. "I don't doubt it. Do you want some water?"

"Please."

"You stay right there and don't move; we don't want to have to repair your ribcage a second time." She left the room to go get his water.

Kirk looked around. He tried to sit up but flopped back with a gasp. He looked down at the bandages crisscrossing his chest. Maybe they weren't kidding about his ribcage.

From his position, he craned his neck to see as much as he could, ignoring the pounding in his head. This section of Sickbay was surprisingly empty; he didn't see anyone else that-

A cold suddenly gripped him. Where was Bones? Hadn't Bones made it, too? Kirk didn't remember much after the skimmer was blown out of control. He had the vague impression that they hit something… oh, God, did they smash into the outpost?

The nurse returned and saw him trying to sit up again. "Hey, calm down, hold still, you're safe now. No need to get all excited," she soothed, handing him his water.

"My friend," Kirk asked, swallowing some. "He was with me. Is he…?"

"He's fine," she reassured him. "And in much better shape than you. Of course, you'll be back at square one if you keep squirming like that."

Kirk stopped moving and sank back into the pillows. "What happened?"

She smiled. "I think you could tell me more than I could tell you," she said softly.

Kirk wanted to ask some more questions, but he suddenly felt very tired and slipped into sleep. When he awoke, the nurse was gone, and someone else was in her place.

"Well, good morning, Sunshine."

"Bones!" Kirk greeted, relieved to see the doctor sitting there. "You're okay."

McCoy absently rubbed his knees. "I'm on the mend. But _you've_ got a ways to go."

Kirk chuckled at the languid speech. He looked at him, mildly surprised at how different McCoy looked. The stubble was gone, and a clean Starfleet medical uniform was back. Even the sunburn seemed to have vanished, leaving only a healthy tan as any reminder of their adventure. Reflecting on himself, Kirk reached up and stroked his own chin, surprised to find it smooth.

McCoy noticed. "They cleaned you up some after surgery," he explained. "According to some of the other doctors, we were both a wreck that looked ready to die on our feet."

Kirk turned back to face him. "What happened? Did the skimmer crash?"

McCoy leaned back in his chair. "You bet it did. Went straight through the station and scared this one gal half to death. You got knocked out; she and I had to carry you to the transporter room. They beamed us up to the _Hood_; we're there now. Turns out you had a mighty concussion and several busted ribs."

"And you?" Kirk asked pointedly.

"Gash on one knee and hairline fracture on the other leg. Both easy fixes, but I'm still a tad sore. Everywhere."

Kirk chuckled. "Same here."

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, reflecting on the circumstances.

"Does Starfleet know about the Vertod?" Kirk asked suddenly, remembering their discovery.

McCoy put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back onto the bed. "Relax, Jim. And yes, they do. Some captain came by after my treatment and asked for my report. I gave him our names, what we've been through, and told him about how the Vertod are simply territorial. He seemed to take the news seriously. Last I heard, the fighting stopped after Station 5 was evacuated, and now Starfleet has finally succeeded in patching through to the Vertod. Negotiations should be underway."

Kirk visibly relaxed. "Good, that's good." He rubbed his shoulder. "Do you know how long I'm going to be here?"

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "As long as you need to be," he answered. "You won't get bored, though. Chances are that pretty soon people will be peppering you with questions like they did me."

"Questions? We survived, I would think that's answer enough."

He noticed McCoy wasn't quite looking at him. "What?" he asked. "What's extraordinary about surviving?"

He knew right away he said something slightly stupid when McCoy gave him an 'are you crazy?' look. "Jim," he said instead. "According to the people I've talked to, to correlate dates, our little adventure starting from the battlefield to being beamed up lasted 9 days."

Kirk's eyes bugged. "_Nine_ days?" he repeated.

"So you see why surviving that long would interest people."

Kirk leaned his head against his pillows. "Nine days. I can hardly believe it. It feels much longer and much shorter at the same time."

McCoy nodded. "It does, doesn't it?" The doctor looked down, then back up. "Your ship, the _Republic_, was called away five days ago."

Kirk looked blankly at him. His mind worked around that fact. "Do they think I'm dead?" he finally asked.

"I don't know. If the people here are smart then they sent a message to everyone letting them know you're okay."

Kirk sighed. "I don't suppose I'm going back to the _Republic_, anyhow. It's easier for Starfleet to just reassign me."

"Well, you're not going back to work just yet." McCoy scooted his chair closer. "I have it on good authority that when you're released from Sickbay the two of us are granted shore leave."

Kirk turned at that. "Really?" His eyes narrowed. "Wait, it's not going to be on Diodorus, is it?"

McCoy laughed. "No, no, we're staying with the _Hood_ until it reaches a Starbase or shore leave planet; whichever comes first. So it might be a bit, as they're one of the starships wrapping up negotiations."

"I see." Kirk let out a long sigh. "So we'll be on a starship doing nothing."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "You'll be healing. And I'll stick around." The doctor looked around the room. "I could grow to like a Sickbay like this. I surely wouldn't mind working in one later."

"Haven't you worked on a starship before?" Kirk asked.

"Oh, every now and then as this or that. Mostly, I've been a part of planetary stations."

"Been on a lot of landing parties, huh?"

McCoy snorted. "I don't know why I keep doing that to myself. More landing parties equal more beam-downs."

"What's wrong with beaming?" Kirk prodded innocently.

"Everything," McCoy declared. "People of the past will look at people of today and wonder why on Earth any sane man would allow himself to be disassembled into billions of atoms and then reassembled somewhere else according to a machine."

Kirk laughed. "I didn't know you hated transporters so much."

McCoy scowled. "They're the bane of my existence."

Kirk still chuckled. "I guess there's a lot we'll get to know about each other on shore leave."

McCoy agreed. Both were very aware of the unspoken understanding. That after nine incredible days together, it simply wouldn't make sense to part now. They'd seen each other injured, helped each other, saved each other's lives, been captured together, fought together, went insane together, and survived together. Both admired, and yet still felt comfortable with, each other. Shore leave would be the icing on the cake.

McCoy cleared his throat to stop the silence. "There is a little bit of debate, not much, about how we may have broken the Prime Directive."

"What?" Kirk started. "I thought the Prime Directive wasn't in force over Diodorus."

"For the Vertod and other Cananri, yes." McCoy sighed. "A few people think we disrupted the flow of the Ankat tribe. If the whole planet was as advanced as they were, then the Prime Directive would be in full effect. However, they were an isolated tribe that no one knew about. And we did show off the universal translator and talked about Starfleet."

"I can't believe this," Kirk said. "After all we've been through, they're going to throw _that_ at us?"

"Probably not," McCoy said. "Only a few people had thoughts about it. Just thought I'd mention it."

"Oh." Kirk shook his head. The ache returned and he shifted uncomfortably. "For once, I am really looking forward to shore leave."

"For once?" McCoy echoed, incredulous. "Are you a workaholic?"

Kirk shrugged. "I like my job. Is that a crime? Why are you…?" he broke off because McCoy was laughing. "What?"

"It's okay, it's okay, Jim," the doctor held up placating hands. "I completely agree with you. About wanting shore leave 'for once'. Hell, I've had people literally _drag_ me to a planet to get some time off."

Kirk grinned as he saw where McCoy was going. "Well, this should be a statistic to shock the galaxy: two workaholics willingly take shore leave and enjoy it!"

They grinned and chatted some more, settling into a comfortable rhythm. They exchanged shore leave stories, then chatted about their jobs, and started a semi-contest on who had the craziest tale from their Academy days. When the nurse came by later, neither stopped their conversation as she checked Kirk's readings. Whenever someone with questions for them interrupted, they picked up right where they left off once they were gone. The conversation only dwindled when the ship's night started and Kirk started yawning more than talking. McCoy pulled a biobed closer and stretched out on it. The nurse came by once again to see both soundly asleep. She smiled to herself; then turned away. Friends like that were hard to come by.

* * *

_Three weeks later…_

Kirk sat at a table in a diner on Starbase 7, sipping his drink. He felt completely relaxed and amused himself by watching the crowd. McCoy's drink was across from him; the doctor had gone to the bathroom.

It had taken the _Hood_ a week to finalize talks with the Vertod and leave Diodorus. The boundaries and borders had been better defined and the two outposts moved slightly to accommodate them. The ship then dropped Kirk and McCoy off at Starbase 7, which orbited a delightful planet perfect for shore leave. They stayed down on it for two weeks, enjoying the sights, talking, and overall relaxing. It felt _soo_ good to go to sleep in a plush bed without having to keep watch half the night.

In that time, the two had just grown closer. One of the first things they traded concerned alcohol. Kirk could hold his liquor pretty well, but so could McCoy. Plus, the doctor seemed to know dozens of brands and facts about alcohol that Kirk couldn't even begin to guess. Often in the evenings they chatted in a bar. He chuckled as recalled one incident where they both actually got _drunk_ and not a little buzzed, and then some other smashed patron and his buddies picked a fight. The result was one heck of a night to remember, and both grinned like idiots the next morning recounting it despite the massive hangovers.

However, all good things must end. They had retired up to the Starbase to wait for their respective ships to come in and carry them off to their next assignments. Kirk spun his drink on the table absent-mindedly. He was determined to keep in contact with McCoy, even if they were going to be on different ships.

The doctor returned and sat down. He noticed Kirk's glum expression. "Don't want to leave?" he asked.

Kirk looked up. He shrugged. "It just feels weird. Parting like this."

McCoy raised that doggone eyebrow. "Well, now nothing is forever Jim. You'd be surprised at how often people run into each other out in the black."

Kirk grinned. "Yes." He looked at McCoy. "So you did take that post on the _Hudson_?"

McCoy nodded, swallowing his drink. "Yeah. Decided to familiarize myself a bit more with starship Sickbays. I really liked the _Hood_'s. A little more experience couldn't hurt." He tapped his glass. "And you're waiting for the…?"

"_Farragut_," Kirk said. "There's an opening there. Deep space."

McCoy didn't miss the gleam in Kirk's eye. "Been wanting to go out that far?" he mentioned casually.

Kirk started and quelled his excitement. "Ever since I first saw the stars. I keep wanting to reach out, to see more, to find the unknown. So, yes. I guess I have always wanted to go out as far into space as I can."

"Well, then," McCoy said, raising his glass. "Here's to boldly going where no man has gone before."

Kirk raised his glass also and they drank. Finishing it off, an announcement coursed through the station that the _Hudson_ had arrived.

"Well, that's my call," McCoy said, rising. Kirk stood as well. "I'll see you around, Jim."

Kirk clapped his back. "See you, Bones. Stay out of trouble."

"Me?" McCoy exclaimed. "You're the one who always seems to find it, if I remember this shore leave."

"Look, the guy at the bar was talking to _both_ of us," Kirk protested.

McCoy chuckled. "You keep telling yourself that. He had a bone to pick with _you_, mister. But tell you what," he continued, staving off Kirk's reply. "I'll stay out of trouble if you keep yourself in one piece. Deal?"

"Deal," Kirk said firmly.

"Good." McCoy nodded curtly. "I don't want to have to come halfway across the galaxy to patch you up after a little mishap."

Kirk grinned. "I'll keep that in mind, Bones." He exhaled. "Good luck out there."

"You too, Jim," the doctor said seriously. "I'll see you around."

Kirk watched as McCoy walked out of the diner, heading for the transporter room. He sighed and stared into his empty glass. Finding no answers in it, he wandered over to a viewing port and looked out at the curvature of the station. He had a splendid view of the docking bay, which was rather busy. Several ships, both small and large, surrounded the terminals.

It would be easy to maintain a friendship on the same ship, Kirk mused. He had several casual friends back on the _Republic_. But it wasn't his first time having to maintain a friendship long-distance. Idly, he wondered where Gary Mitchell was, out there in the black.

Kirk checked the time from the chronometer in the diner. He still had several hours before the _Farragut_ was due to pick him up. He might as well get comfortable. Pulling up a chair, he settled down next to a viewport to entertain himself by watching the ships come and go. There were a couple starships glinting proudly off of the lights from the Starbase. He looked at them in awe. It was always majestic to see the outside of a starship, because it was so rare a sight. Most of the time people were inside working.

Kirk could feel his heart swell as he gazed upon them. One starship was slowly backing out of a hangar; it must be the _Hudson_. He watched it turn around and aim out for the black. "Bye, Bones," he murmured as it pulled away from the base.

He considered getting up and getting another drink, when the other starship caught his eye. He didn't know why this one stood out the way it did, but he found that he couldn't look away.

She glided into the docking bay like a sleek, silver bird. Her front saucer dipped politely as she acknowledged the top of the hangar and ducked elegantly inside. The ship was a lady; a fine lady entering a room as a guest. She was anything but dainty, however. Kirk could see the invisible power behind her nacelles. Her armaments, though few, could still pack a punch and warned troublemakers away with a stern look. There was a resilience about her hull that told him that she could and would survive anything to get her people home. No matter what she faced down, she would endure. The gleam of her silver siding made the NCC-1701 seem blacker. It was a statement. She was a lady that was not to be crossed. She could weather the storms, command attention, and concede the circumstances. Kirk fought to glimpse a name and she granted it to him.

The U.S.S. _Enterprise_.

Kirk's mind buzzed with plans and ideas. His ultimate goal had been to be a captain. But now, he added several things to his list. He didn't want to be the captain of just any ship. He wanted _that_ ship. The _Enterprise_. His heart rate sped up as he considered what he could do. As a captain, he would need a first officer. Gary was a natural choice. But also, more importantly, he would need a Chief Medical Officer. A smile spread across his face as he considered. Yes, a friendship was easier to maintain when on the same ship. And it was a stroke of luck that Bones had just picked to expand his knowledge of a starship's Sickbay. Plus, his experience with planet-side missions would make him an asset on landing parties and the like.

Kirk suddenly stood up, too excited to sit down. He felt the familiar flow of ambition and determination course through him. His newfound friendship with Bones wouldn't fall apart. Eventually, one day, they would work together on the same ship to, as the doctor had put it, boldly go where no man had gone before.

Excited and restless, Kirk paced back to the counter to order another drink. He wasn't kidding himself, he still had a long way to go before he became captain. But he was going to do it.

He bumped into someone on his way to the counter. "My apologies," he said immediately to the stranger. "I'm just a little excited."

"It is of no concern," the stranger replied smoothly. "May I inquire why you are in an excited state?"

Kirk sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ever have one of those feelings where it feels like you haven't hit the best part of your life yet? Like there's an entire adventure just laid out in front of you waiting to happen?" He suddenly noticed the stiff posture and pointed ears.

"I'm sorry," he backtracked. "I didn't mean any offense when I spoke of feelings, Mr.-?"

"Spock," the Vulcan replied. "I am Spock."

* * *

**It's DONE! It's finally done! Thank you, everyone, for reading and following this story! Thanks, GSFan01, mtcbones, and Kimberleah for reviewing that last chapter. Also, special thanks to Kimberleah, mtcbones, literary1, GSFan01, and Abibliophobia for reviewing the whole way! Thank you, ALL reviewers/followers/favoriters for your support!**

**Kirk serving on the _Farragut_ is from 'Obsession'. Also, in 'The Menagerie Part 1' Spock says that he served with Pike on the _Enterprise_ (The Cage) for 11 years, 4 months, and 5 days. Seeing how this is set approximately 11 years before year one of Kirk's captaincy, Spock would be posted on the _Enterprise_ about this time. Also, while writing, I realized that because McCoy seemed to have a lot of planetary experience, that could be one reason why he's often on landing parties.**

**Anyway, I hope this lived up to some of your expectations. I really like the ending on this one. Thus concludes how Jim Kirk and Bones McCoy met, with a glimpse into the future with the _Enterprise_ and Spock. Thank you for reading this! If I have any loose ends PLEASE let me know! Bless y'all!**


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